Revenge of the Space Babes
by TyroCat
Summary: Will Captain Kirk receive the comeuppance that some feel he so richly deserves?
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? MONK LEGGY SPACY FLUX

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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USS Enterprise NCC-1701  
Chief Medical Officer's Log  
Stardate 8675309.1

"We're en route to the planet Jheniffur 8, after our latest mission, for some well-deserved R&R...

As if the crew's health hadn't already been in a state of flux...well, that battle with the Klingon bird-of-prey certainly didn't help matters any. Bed space here in Sickbay was at an absolute premium for several hours, as I was seeing casualties coming in from just about every department. I didn't lose any patients, thank goodness, and I was able to send most of them to their quarters to recuperate. I'm just keeping a few of the more critical cases here overnight for observation - including Ensign P'len, who still has a spacy look in his eyes after suffering a concussion down in Engineering...

I'm relieved that Starfleet has given us this opportunity for shore leave. Ongoing tensions with the Klingon Empire have left little opportunity for 'down time', causing me grave concerns for the crew's mental, as well as physical, health. Of particular concern to me is the 'health' of our Captain. He has never lived the life of a monk and is unused to the long period of abstinence he's had to endure while this last assignment was completed. Perhaps he will meet some leggy alien babe while we're visiting the planet..."

_TBC..._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity. 

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? SODA PAIN TRUNK

**_Feedback welcome!_**

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_**The Bridge...**_

Captain Kirk sat in the command chair, fighting to maintain some semblance of an upright posture and a calm demeanor in spite of a raging headache and a nagging pain in his midsection.

Too much Romulan ale on an empty stomach, he supposed. He had invited Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy to his quarters last night for a brief victory toast after their latest 'spat' with the Klingons.

Kirk, flush with success, had found quite a few more things to toast after that first round. Spock had raised an eyebrow and declined to imbibe further, excusing himself to go to his quarters and meditate before retiring for the night. McCoy, for his part, might have stayed past the first round, but he had gotten called away to Sickbay by an over-eager assistant who was concerned about Ensign P'len's latest concussion-induced rantings.

So Kirk had been drinking alone - and was paying for it now, he thought ruefully. He looked at the front viewscreen and quickly regretted it, as the moving starfield shown inspired a fresh wave of nausea. He considered going down to Sickbay and begging McCoy for some bicarbonate of soda, but doubted that he was steady enough to do so without embarrassing himself. "_Ah well, I can tough it out_", he thought. "_Reminder to self, though...next time, Jim, for god's sake, eat something first_!"

Lt. Uhura interrupted his musings. "Captain, we are being hailed."

Kirk's first attempt to answer her was hampered by a tongue that felt as thick as an elephant's trunk and as dry as the Sahara Desert. He coughed a bit, swallowed, then managed to say, "On screen"...

_TBC..._


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? CREED NOON POSH

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**_The Bridge..._**

Since his nausea had kept his gaze averted from the main display, Kirk's first hint that something was unusual was the gasp he heard from Mr. Sulu. He glanced over at his helmsman, whose attention was riveted to the main viewscreen. Kirk followed Sulu's stare and was struck dumb by the vision he saw before him.

Looking back from the screen was a beautiful young woman, slender but not skinny, with a wealth of long, silver hair and skin that had just the slightest tinge of blue. Her coloring reminded him of an Andorian, but Kirk didn't suppose he could ever get drunk enough to mistake this gorgeous creature for one of those antenna-heads.

The woman was standing in a tastefully posh office and wearing a light-colored robe that, while not actually revealing, did nothing to hide the excellent shape that she was in. Kirk shifted in his seat, and she regarded the movement with a knowing smile.

"Greetings, weary space-travelers," she said in a calm, melodious voice. "Welcome to the Jheniffur star system. I am K-tel, one of the First Greeters. Hospitality is our creed here on Jheniffur 8, and pleasure is our specialty. I am here to help with your introduction to all that our planet has to offer. Whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

Kirk straightened in his seat and responded. "I'm Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise. Please pardon our intrusion into your system. My crew's in need of shore leave, and Admiral Morrisville of Starfleet directed us to your excellent planet. She said that she'd made arrangements for us...that you were expecting us?"

K-tel looked startled upon hearing Kirk's introduction. She threw a quick glance to her side and appeared to engage in a silent communication with someone offscreen. After a second or two, she turned back to face Kirk.

"Yes, of course, Captain. My apologies for the momentary confusion. Your arrival is indeed most eagerly anticipated. Our instruments indicate that if you maintain present course and speed, you will arrive at our planet just before noon."

K-tel paused a moment, then favored Kirk with a coy smile. "Then perhaps, Captain, we might get together for a bit of...lunch...once the official business has been taken care of?"

"I'll look forward to that, First Greeter," Kirk replied, his hangover now completely forgotten...

_TBC..._


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? BEET TOWN NOTED GIMP

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**_The Messhall..._**

Pavel Chekov looked up at the door of the messhall as yet another crewman walked through to join the lunchtime crowd. As it was not the particular crewman he was waiting for, he looked back down at the bowl of borscht sitting on the table in front of him. He picked up a spoon and began to idly swirl it through the soup. He scooped a chunk of beet from the borscht and lifted the spoon in front of his face, staring at the piece of vegetable matter as if trying to divine the mysteries of the universe or plot an intricate course through an especially dangerous nebula.

"Pavel!" a voice said abruptly, right next to his ear, startling Chekov and causing him to drop his spoon into the soup bowl with a splash.

"Sulu!" Chekov growled as he picked up a napkin and began dabbing at his chest. "Do you know how hard it is to get borscht stains out of these uniforms? Sneak up on me again like that, and you get the laundry bill!"

"So noted," Sulu replied with a smirk. "Now, do you want to hear what happened on the Bridge this morning - or would you and your spoon like to be alone for a while?"

"Tell, tell," Chekov urged, then sighed. "It figures, though. Nothing interesting ever happens on the Bridge when I'm on shift!"

Sulu set his lunch tray on the table across from Chekov and sat down, then leaned forward to whisper almost conspiratorially, "Imagine the hottest woman you've ever laid eyes on...times ten."

"Yeah, what about her?" Chekov said.

"I saw her, this morning...on the viewscreen."

"Riiiight," Chekov said dubiously, and with a hint of jealousy.

"It's true," Sulu protested. "She's some kind of official greeter or something for this planet. I've never seen anyone like her, Chekov...I was...she was...well, you know the Captain was excited - that's a given."

Chekov nodded.

"Chekov, I...I'm a fairly restrained and reasonable guy, I think, especially while on duty. But man, I must have been walking like a gimp when I left the Bridge a while ago, that's how excited I was."

Chekov sighed again. "I wish I'd seen her. Will she still be around by the time my shift starts, do you think?"

Sulu shook his head. "I doubt it. The last thing I heard was that the Captain was arranging to meet with some of the planetary officials in town to firm up the final arrangements for shore leave."

"Darn," Chekov muttered. "I wonder who he's taking down with him..."

_TBC..._


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? CRUSH TROD VAIN MENU

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The Transporter Room..._**

Unlike Chekov, Ensign Jed-Ghar Proo knew exactly who Captain Kirk was taking down to the planet - and he was not happy about it in the least.

As he waited for the rest of the away team to arrive in the transporter room, he smoothed down any stray hairs on his head, then picked a speck of lint off the sleeve of his uniform. Ensign Jed-Ghar didn't consider himself to be a vain creature, but he'd heard through the ship's grapevine about the incredibly luscious K-tel, and he wanted to make a good first impression.

A first impression would probably be the only thing he'd have the time to make, anyway, he theorized as he re-checked the sleeves of his telltale red shirt. He was going down to Jheniffur 8 with the Captain, Mr. Spock and Dr. McCoy; he didn't delude himself with the hope that he'd be coming back up to the ship with them.

"It could happen," the insidious thought wafted through his mind. "You could prove the exception to the rule. Who says you have to be turned into a cube and reduced to a crush of powdered minerals? There have been others who've made it back; others who've trod upon alien worlds in the company of those three and lived to tell the tale."

"Oh, yeah?" Jed-Ghar thought back at himself. "Name one."

At that moment, the door to the corridor slid open, and the Captain, Mr. Spock and the Doctor came striding into the room. Jed-Ghar drew himself up to attention and nodded in salute. "Sir!"

"Greetings, Ensign," Kirk replied as he stepped past Jed-Ghar and onto the platform. "Mr. Scott, do you have the coordinates?"

"Aye, Captain," the chief engineer replied from behind the transporter control panel.

After Ensign Jed-Ghar passed the control station on his way to the platform, he felt Mr. Scott's gaze boring into the back of his head. Once on the pad, he turned around and caught the sad, knowing and sympathetic expression on the chief engineer's face.

As the Captain uttered "Energize!", Jed-Ghar sighed and wondered what foods would be on the menu during this luncheon meeting. If he was going to die anyway, he was damned if it would be on an empty stomach...

_TBC..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? YARD PIPE JOYS ANIMAL

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**_The planet's surface..._**

The away team materialized in the front yard of what Mr. Spock took to be a government building. There was no apparent signage indicating its purpose, but he noted the spare, conservative lines of its design. Spock had been witness to many examples of architecture during the course of his travels in Starfleet, and no matter how aesthetically unusual or pleasing the other local structures were, the 'official' buildings were almost invariably drab and pedestrian.

Spock continued his survey of the vicinity. The Captain had been told by First Greeter K-tel that this was the largest city on the planet, as well as its center of government and commerce. The Vulcan raised an eyebrow at the memory as he turned his head and looked around. In his opinion, Jheniffur 8's version of a bustling metropolis more closely resembled old Earth vids of a typical New England village than anything that could reasonably be called a 'city'.

Spock's musings were disturbed by the sensation of something brushing against his legs. He looked down and saw a small, black-furred animal winding between his lower limbs and tapping its tail against his calves. It rubbed its head against his left boot and made a low rumbling sound before it proceeded to slink across the lawn to rub against the Captain's legs.

The Captain looked down at the being with some amusement. "Well, Spock, what do you make of that?"

"Why, it's a cat, of course!" Dr. McCoy burst in, as he began to lean down to pet the creature, before being halted by the Captain's quick headshake.

"It certainly looks like one, Doctor," Kirk agreed. "All the same, I'd like Spock to run the tricorder over it before you start getting all cuddly. Don't want to take any chances."

Spock removed the tricorder from his belt and made a couple of passes over the creature's ebony coat before looking at the display. "According to these readings, it is indeed a _Felis catus_ - a common domestic cat," Spock stated.

Dr. McCoy began to grumble "Just like I said in the first place", but his rant was interrupted by the soft, lilting strains of pipe music.

As the Captain and the others looked around, trying to determine the source of the music, they noticed that the front doors of the building had swung open. A solitary figure emerged from the shadows of the doorway and proceeded to walk in their direction. The being had glided halfway down the stairs leading to the lawn before the away team recognized her as First Greeter K-tel.

"Greetings, weary space-travelers," she said, coming to a stop before them and smiling at each away team member in turn before finally resting her gaze upon the Captain's face. "Welcome to Jheniffur 8. May the troubles of your journey be eased by the joys our planet has to offer. Would you and your men care to follow me inside? We have much to discuss before we can get down to the...more pleasant business..."

_TBC..._


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? DEBUT TOUR PAVED KEEP

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The government building..._**

As the away team followed K-tel down the corridor leading to the chamber where the planetary officials awaited them, Captain Kirk found himself staring at the First Greeter's backside, mesmerized by the sway of her hips beneath the folds of her robe - and thinking most uncaptainly thoughts of what K-tel's "more pleasant business" might entail. He shook his head a few times to try to clear his mind for the imminent meeting. It wouldn't do to be so distracted by his raging testosterone that he ended up saying or doing something to antagonize the council here on Jheniffur 8. Even if Admiral Morrisville had paved the way for the crew's shore leave, it was by no means a done deal. Final negotiations with the locals could be tricky, and one never knew when an inadvertent breach of protocol could scuttle the whole arrangement.

Kirk looked to his right and noticed that K-tel's movements were having a similar physical effect upon Ensign Jed-Ghar. The man's rapt gaze was focused on the gorgeous blue-skinned woman, and he seemed to be having some difficulty in breathing. A brief stab of jealousy surprised Kirk as he growled silently, "_Keep your mitts off, Ensign. This one's mine_."

Embarrassed by his rutting-male reaction to Ensign Jed-Ghar's obvious attraction to the First Greeter, Kirk attempted to find some other focus for his wayward thoughts. He noticed that even as he and his team followed K-tel down the hall, the pipe music that they had heard before seemed to be trailing them. The thin, airy tones drifted through the corridor, inspiring Kirk with relaxing mental images of high mountain meadows and sunsets.

"Pardon me, First Greeter," Kirk said, quickly glancing around him, "but this music...we heard this before, outside. I'm curious - may I ask where it's coming from?"

"You may ask," K-tel teased, then paused in her movements to turn and face the away team. "There are speakers installed throughout the building - cleverly designed to blend into the walls and ceilings. We Jhennifurians are quite attached to our music; plus, we find it to be immensely soothing to nerves that have been stretched to the breaking point by...how shall we say, rather difficult talks? Do you like this music, Captain?" she smiled encouragingly.

Kirk knew a loaded question when he heard one, and felt himself fortunate that he could honestly answer her in the affirmative.

"Wonderful, Captain!" K-tel exclaimed. "The selection playing now is a favorite of mine. The musician's name is K-sea; I doubt you've heard of her, but she is very popular here. This song is from her debut offering. She's currently on tour in the Southern Provinces; otherwise I'm sure the council would have been happy to arrange a special performance for you."

"Our loss, I'm sure, First Greeter," Kirk replied.

K-tel stepped closer to him and uttered softly, "It doesn't have to be, Captain. I happen to have several of her collections at my residence. Perhaps, after all of this," she said, gesturing toward the chamber doors, "when you are free to enjoy your leave, we could adjourn back to my place. I would enjoy listening to them with you, and I'm sure they would help to ease any lingering tensions left over after our own...negotiations..."

_TBC..._


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? GIVE QUEST JEER REMEDY

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

As soon as Lt. Uhura stepped into Sickbay, she spotted Nurse Chapel at her medical station - peering intently at a piece of paper, then tapping away at a few keys.

"Well, Christine, at least now I know why you stood me up for lunch," Uhura announced, as she crossed her arms and shifted her hips to one side. "What's with the paper?"

"The Doctor," Chapel replied, rolling her eyes. "One of his old-fashioned quirks. He occasionally likes to give me his treatment notes on crumpled-up scraps of paper, that I somehow have to manage to decipher before I can transfer them into the computer."

"Poor thing. I'm sorry," Uhura murmured sympathetically.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't miss our lunch for this. This is just busy work," Chapel stated. "I had to stay to watch out for Ensign P'len over there." She gestured toward the figure lying on one of the biobeds.

"Is he still here?" Uhura asked incredulously. "I didn't think a knock on the head was that serious."

"It isn't, normally," Chapel answered. "He should have been out of here this morning, but he doesn't seem to be responding well to treatment. He's still carrying on every once in a while, and he's making less and less sense as he goes on."

"How do you mean?" Uhura asked.

"Well, you just missed one of his spells a few minutes ago. First, he's babbling about his quest and stalking some woman through a marsh. Then, he's barking like a dog and asking for a threesome. It's unnerving, but all I can do right now is give him a sedative and keep an eye on him." Chapel frowned. "Again, I'm sorry about lunch."

Uhura laughed sharply. "That's okay, Christine. Sounds like typical male ranting to me, and believe me, I've heard plenty of that recently. I suppose you've heard about our 'friend' on the viewscreen?"

"The blue bombshell?" Chapel asked. "Yes, I've heard. What's she like?"

"Tall, slim, stacked...you know, the typical nightmare," Uhura sighed. "And it got the typical reaction from the guys after she'd signed off. A jeer here, a wolf whistle there - even the Captain had trouble picking his tongue up off the floor." Uhura sighed again at the memory. "At least the ensign over there can claim a head injury as his excuse."

Chapel walked over to pat Uhura on the shoulder. "There, there. If they can find a cure for cancer, someday they're bound to find a remedy for male stupidity - and then, the Captain will have to sit up and really take notice of...things." She paused a moment, then said softly to herself, "Maybe a certain someone else will, too."

Uhura smiled wryly at that, then said, "Yes, but will we still be able to stand them by that point? I wouldn't want to make any bets on that..."

_TBC..._


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? GEMS SEER JURY POUR

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Outside the planetary council chamber..._**

"Duty first, however, Captain," K-tel smiled as she stepped back. "Gentlemen?" she said to all, gesturing again at the chamber doors, which had just begun to swing open. She resumed her walk, and the members of the away team fell into step behind her.

K-tel led them through the doorway and toward a dais at the back of the chamber. On the dais, five women, noticeably older than K-tel but equally blue-skinned and beautiful, sat in jewel-encrusted chairs that faced the room. The light shining through several windows set high up on the walls fell upon the chairs and made the gems sparkle and gleam as if on fire.

K-tel stopped before the platform and bowed to the women. "Madam Councilors, may I present Captain James T. Kirk of the Enterprise, and three of the officers from his ship? He is here to formally request our hospitality on behalf of his crew."

The woman in the center chair leaned forward and looked into Kirk's eyes with the intent stare of a seer trying to determine the future. At her scrutiny, Kirk fought down the urge to squirm - and wondered belatedly if the Jheniffurians were a telepathic race. If so, then he was probably in big trouble.

The woman chuckled softly, and Kirk wondered if he hadn't been successful at hiding his discomfort after all. She leaned back in her chair and addressed him. "Captain Kirk, welcome. I am K-bec, Chief Minister of the Council of Jhen. My fellow councilors and I have heard much of you from your Admiral Morrisville. Tales of your exploits provided much diversion during her visit here last year."

The other four councilors turned to each other and nodded, smiling. Kirk wasn't sure, but he could have sworn that he heard the faint sound of giggling. Chief Minister K-bec glanced sternly to either side of her; whereupon, the councilors turned to face forward again, now as sober as the members of a jury.

K-bec clapped her hands suddenly, and two male servants entered the room from a side door, pushing a cart laden with a carafe of wine and several glasses. One of the servants walked through the assembled company, giving a glass to each person. The other servant then proceeded to follow him and pour a small amount of wine into each glass.

"A toast, Captain! To successful negotiations!" K-bec said as she raised her glass.

Kirk raised his glass in response, then slowly began to sip the wine...

_TBC..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? BIGOT PANIC HOLY

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Inside the planetary council chamber..._**

Ensign Jed-Ghar held the wineglass and sipped politely along with the others, though his initial impulse when faced with any form of liquor was to slug it down first and ask questions later. He heard the Captain exclaim, "Ah! An excellent vintage, Chief Minister" and he restrained the urge to snort. Excellent vintage?! Not by this mother's son, it wasn't! It was passable, certainly - but even the holy water in the baptismal font at his church back home tasted better than this! He smiled to himself guiltily as he recalled other episodes of a misspent youth.

After everyone had finished their wine and the glasses had been collected, Chief Minister K-bec invited the away team to adjourn to the next room, where the group would discuss Captain Kirk's request over a light repast. The councilors and the Captain took the lead, followed by K-tel and the remaining officers. Jed-Ghar made sure to bring up the rear - in order to better view the First Greeter's rear, he thought lasciviously. As he admired K-tel from behind, he imagined all of the things he would do if the two of them were alone together.

The ensign would have denied it if anyone had called him a bigot - but he just knew that, despite his extreme attraction to the Jheniffurian woman (or maybe because of it!), she was definitely not the kind of girl to take home to Mother. Not that any of it would matter anyway, he sighed. The Captain was going to get her - the Captain always got the girl, damn him.

At least he was going to get to eat! Jed-Ghar thought triumphantly as he stepped through the side door and viewed the sumptuous spread on the long banquet table. As he pondered how he could best wangle a seat at the table next to K-tel, he paused in his tracks and inhaled deeply...or tried to. A sudden shortness of breath that had nothing to do with his arousal came over him, and he tried not to panic.

Jed-Ghar attempted to swallow but his throat was too parched, so he cast his eyes about vainly for a glass of water - anything! - to ease the heat and the dryness. He started to feel extremely dizzy and glanced about, trying to catch the Doctor's attention, without success. His head was swimming and he began to sway, and he figured it was just a matter of time before he lost consciousness. As he slumped to the floor, to the alarm of his shipmates who rushed to his aid, Ensign Jed-Ghar glanced one last time at the banquet table and swore to himself. Damn! He wasn't even going to get as much as a breadstick out of this, after all...

_TBC..._


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? PRAWN FOND HAVEN MOIST

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Inside the council's banquet room..._**

Dr. McCoy knelt by the prone figure of Ensign Jed-Ghar and passed the medical tricorder up and down the officer's body. The readings, or the lack thereof, distressed him greatly. No lifesigns were registering on the display - not a blip, not a bleep - nothing. McCoy turned the ensign over onto his back and felt for a pulse, then leaned over his mouth to see if any air movement could be detected. Again, nothing.

The Doctor leaned back and took note of the condition of Jed-Ghar's body. Though the banquet room was comfortably cool, the ensign's face was covered with tiny beads of sweat, and his uniform was as moist as if he had just run a marathon.

McCoy cursed silently at the poor ensign's fate. He had been moderately fond of Ensign Jed-Ghar, and had seen in him a young man with a little attitude but a lot of promise. Even worse, the Doctor thought as he looked up at the surrounding company, he was going to have to say those three little words...the three little words that always seemed to stick in his throat...the three little words that he had come to believe were among the ugliest ones in the English language.

"He's dead, Jim."

Captain Kirk exhaled softly through pursed lips, then looked up at the ceiling as if seeking answers from a higher power. Mr. Spock steepled his hands and calmly looked down upon Jed-Ghar's body for a few seconds before turning his head to survey the banquet room.

"Bones, can you tell us what happened to Ensign Jed-Ghar?" Kirk asked. "Can you tell us what killed him?"

"I can't be sure, Captain. Not without a more thorough analysis back in Sickbay," McCoy replied. "But based on observation and what few readings I can get out of this thing," he stated as he waved the tricorder at Kirk, "I'd say that he was poisoned."

The four junior councilors muttered excitedly amongst themselves, in apparent agitation. First Greeter K-tel laced her fingers together behind her back, then bowed her head and stood quietly, as if in silent contemplation of her feet. Chief Minister K-bec looked positively ashen as her mouth opened and closed like a fish at feeding time.

"Poisoned?" K-bec inquired, aghast. "What did he eat? Did he have any of the shellfish? A Jheniffurian prawn, perhaps? They're normally safe enough, but even one of our own people occasionally exhibits an extreme allergic reaction to them."

"I do not believe the ensign had a chance to eat anything, Chief Minister," Spock interjected, having completed his survey. "None of the food has been disturbed and he seems to have collapsed even before he reached the banquet table."

"Perhaps it was the wine, Captain," McCoy offered. "It does seem to be the only thing that he had down here - unless he consumed something back on the ship that disagreed with him. Again, I won't know for sure until I can get his body back to Sickbay to run some tests."

Chief Minister K-bec shook her head, greatly distressed. "I cannot suppose it was the wine. Your Admiral herself sampled another bottle of the same vintage and showed no ill effects. We presumed it was safe for all humans, but perhaps we were wrong. I shall have the servants retrieve the bottle that they poured from this afternoon - perhaps there will be residue that you can use for your tests, Doctor?"

"Yes, thank you, Chief Minister. That would be a great help," McCoy replied.

K-bec looked at her fellow councilors on one side, and the First Greeter on the other, then sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, it seems a little late to be of much help to the ensign. If it...if we had...if we can..." She paused to calm herself, then continued solemnly, "If we are in error...well, I do not know how we can even begin to apologize, gentlemen. Our planet...it's supposed to be a safe haven...and now...and now?" She paused again and drew a deep breath.

"This poor young man did not deserve to die. I promise you, gentlemen, that answers will found..."

_TBC…_


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? WAGED OILY JOLT MOBS CHEF

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The Messhall..._**

Chekov and Sulu finished dawdling over lunch, having spent the entire time speculating about the various attributes of the silver-haired goddess that Sulu had seen on the viewscreen that morning...and about the probable mobs of men that trailed after her all day long...and about the improbable idea that either one of them had a chance in hell of scoring with her. After disposing of their dishes and trays, the crewmates were on their way out of the messhall when they heard the furious tapping of a knife on a cutting board and decided to make a brief detour into the galley.

The ship's kitchen was currently inhabited by Crewman Leendel, an attractive, occasionally temperamental, cook's assistant who had been assigned to the Enterprise only a few months ago. As the two men watched from the other side of the counter, she waged war upon a large pile of cherries - chopping at them savagely as if one of them had personally offended her, yet all were being made to suffer the consequences.

"Our compliments to the chef," Sulu praised. "The borscht was excellent today."

"Sure it was, Sulu," Leendel said suspiciously, never pausing in her chopping. "What do you want?"

"Nothing. Chekov and I just heard you working and we wondered what you were making for tonight," Sulu replied.

"I'm making a lot o' tarts," Leendel snapped back. "What of it?"

"Nothing," Sulu answered her. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, nothing's wrong - what could be wrong?!" Leendel denied sharply, still chopping away. "What could possibly be wrong with you men, with your flowers and your promises and your oily smiles..."

"Wait a minute," Sulu broke into her growing rant, raising his hands before him to fend off her accusations. "What did I do?! What did Chekov do?!" He looked over at Chekov, who put his own hands up and shrugged.

"Nothing! It's not you!" Leendel bit out angrily. "It's..."

"Chekov! Sulu!" Uhura interrupted as she entered the messhall and walked quickly over to where the two officers stood by the galley counter.

"What is it? Weren't you just here?" they asked her in near-perfect unison.

"I just came from Sickbay," Uhura replied. "It's Ensign Jed-Ghar. He was on the away team, and the doctor just beamed back from the planet with his body."

"Why? Wait..." Sulu paused. "His body? You mean he's...?"

"Yes," Uhura confirmed. "Ensign Jed-Ghar is dead."

A soft cry, followed by a loud clatter of cutlery, came from the galley, causing the three officers to whirl around in surprise. Their surprise increased as they stared at Crewman Leendel, who looked like a large jolt of electricity had just passed through her body, leaving her stunned and sobbing.

"Oh my dear Proo...I'm so sorry..."

_TBC…_


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? BOGUS PHONY CUFFS THANK

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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USS Enterprise NCC-1701  
Chief Medical Officer's Log  
Stardate 8675309.5

"How does that old Earth saying go...'May you live in interesting times'? Having gone through a very interesting past few days, I understand now why it was considered a curse. Sums it up nicely, I think. I'd like to thank whatever ancient scribe penned that line, as he obviously had serving under Captain James T. Kirk in mind when he wrote it...sorry, Jim...heh heh...

"Ensign Jed-Ghar...what a damned shame. I still find it hard to believe that he's dead, and yet I see his body lying out there in Sickbay as Nurse Chapel preps him for the autopsy. I want to believe that my tricorder was giving me bogus readings down there on the planet, and yet I recall the ensign's lack of pulse, his dry lips just starting to turn blue, and his uniform - soaked with sweat from his collar all the way down to the edges of his sleeves.

"Ah, the ensign's cuffs...that reminds me of an 'interesting' sidebar to this incident.

"Chief Minister K-bec, who's been quite distraught over the death, had just finished offering her help with the investigation. I'd pulled my communicator out to call for the transporter when I'd noticed that black cat - the same black cat that we'd met outside - tugging on the ends of Ensign Jed-Ghar's sleeves as if trying to wake him up. I guess it had followed us inside, deciding that we were its friends, and the poor thing didn't realize that the ensign was dead.

"None of the councilors seemed surprised to see the cat there; in fact, they seemed to be well acquainted with it. One of them told us that her name was Isis. She had arrived on the planet a year or two ago with a gentleman who had 'gone on', leaving her there.

"The cat didn't seem inclined to move from Ensign Jed-Ghar's side and resisted my attempts to shoo her away so that I could call for transport. This prompted the Chief Minister to ask if we wanted to keep Isis, as she seemed to be so attached to us anyway.

"So now I have a cat named Isis. She's lying out there in Sickbay, on one of the unused biobeds, watching Nurse Chapel finish her preparations on the ensign. Funny...I met someone once who had a cat named Isis. I wonder whatever happened to him?

"Oh, it looks like Chekov and Sulu just brought a female crewman in. She seems hysterical - she's wailing about how he might have been a cheat and a phony but that didn't mean she wanted him dead? sigh Never a dull moment in Starfleet..."

_TBC…_


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? HOPE BONY FEAR FAKIR

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room..._**

Kirk and Spock had remained on the planet after Dr. McCoy's beam-up, upon the Chief Minister's invitation to sit in on the official investigation. At the moment, they were awaiting the arrival of several agents of the Jheniffurian constabulary who would conduct the actual inquiries.

Several male servants entered the room, having been summoned by Chief Minister K-bec, and they began to clear away the untouched feast. K-bec noticed Spock's upraised eyebrow and smiled wryly, explaining, "Under the circumstances, Mr. Spock, I didn't think lunch was such a good idea. If you two gentlemen require something, though..."

"No, but thank you, Chief Minister," Kirk answered. "It appears, however, that we will be forced to withdraw our request for shore leave...at least until the cause of Ensign Jed-Ghar's death has been determined."

K-bec nodded knowingly. "It is regrettable, but understandable."

"Starfleet regulations require this, unfortunately. Please, don't take this as a reflection upon your hospitality, which has been nothing but impeccable, Chief Minister," Kirk said. "And I certainly hope you don't take this to mean that I personally would fear for the safety of my crewmen."

K-bec's intended reply was interrupted by the entrance of three uniformed women, whom Kirk supposed were the constables they were waiting for. The lead woman had the same height, blue skin and silver hair as every other Jheniffurian female he had seen so far - but, unlike the others, she also had the austere countenance of a Hindu fakir and the physique of a welterweight boxer. Kirk considered just how badly she could probably beat him up. Despite his normal preference for softer, curvier women, he found himself becoming unaccountably aroused.

"Captain," the Chief Minister addressed him, shaking him out of his reverie. "May I introduce our lead agent on this inquiry? Captain Kirk, meet Constable K-yoh."

As Kirk returned the constable's offered handshake, he marveled that such a small, bony hand could disguise such a firm, almost crushing grip. After she released him, Kirk flexed his fingers to restore the bloodflow - and briefly wondered what 'damage' the constable could do with her hands to other parts of his anatomy...

_TBC…_


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? SIGH PLUCK FADE GOOF

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room...  
_**  
Spock noticed his captain's reaction to Constable K-yoh's entrance. His finely tuned Vulcan senses picked up the increase in Kirk's heartbeat and respiration, the rise in body temperature, the slightly distracted look in his eyes. Spock didn't suppose that he'd need to resort to a mindmeld to guess at Kirk's thoughts at the moment.

As he glanced around the room, Spock also noticed K-tel's reaction to K-yoh's entrance - or, more specifically, he noticed her reaction to Kirk's reaction to K-yoh's entrance.

Considering her attentions to the Captain earlier, one might have expected K-tel to respond with jealousy or anger at his obvious attraction to another woman. Spock supposed, however, that if he had to give a name to the emotion crossing K-tel's face, he would call it resignation. As Spock continued to watch her, K-tel let out a soft sigh and shook her head ruefully. Whatever she was actually feeling, she was definitely not what his human crewmates would refer to as a 'happy camper'.

Unfortunately, this would not be the first time that Kirk had left one woman on the hook while he chased after another, and Spock wondered if he would be forced to pluck his captain from the clutches of a potentially embarrassing situation here on Jheniffur 8. Spock frowned thoughtfully, as this reminded him of another situation that he had heard about from Kirk's past.

While at Starfleet Academy, Kirk had caught the eyes of many a female cadet - and even of quite a few female instructors. One of those instructors had apparently been Admiral (then Captain) Morrisville.

LaSue Morrisville was attractive, but she had never been considered a great beauty. She was too quiet and reclusive, and she tended to fade into the woodwork whenever she'd had to appear at Starfleet social functions. LaSue was, however, a wickedly clever computer programmer who was part of the team that had created the infamous Kobayashi Maru training exercise - the bane and downfall of every cadet at the Academy...at least until James T. Kirk had come along.

Kirk was a smart man, as evidenced by his rapid rise in the ranks after his graduation - but during his Academy days, he had been somewhat less than focused on his studies. He had tended to goof off too much, but his legion of female admirers had always ensured that he was never behind on any assignments. It was suspected that LaSue Morrisville had become a part of this 'legion'...

_TBC…_


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? OVEN HANG JUMP TRACK CLOG

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

When she was first brought to Sickbay, Crewman Leendel had been sobbing hysterically; the sound had provided a unique counterpoint to Ensign P'len's latest rantings. Dr. McCoy had placed her on the biobed across from the ensign's and had given her a mild sedative, hoping that when she'd finally calmed down, the crewman would be able to give a lucid explanation of herself.

A few minutes later, as he was about to begin his tests on Ensign Jed-Ghar's body, McCoy heard Crewman Leendel as she started to regain consciousness. He stepped over to her biobed and glanced briefly at the computer display over her head, which was there to track her pulse, respiration, temperature, and any other bodily readings that the Doctor might have a use for.

Leendel slowly opened her eyes and looked blearily at McCoy. "How do you feel?" he asked her.

"Better, I guess," she croaked. "I don't want to hang myself any longer, so I suppose that qualifies as 'better'."

"Why would you want to do that in the first place?" McCoy asked. "Does it have something to do with Ensign Jed-Ghar?"

Leendel drew in a shuddering breath, fighting the urge to start crying again. "Yes, Doctor - it has everything to do with him."

"And why is that?"

"Because I killed him."

Dr. McCoy drew back in shock and paused a moment to gather his thoughts, then inquired, "What makes you think that you killed him? And, for that matter, why would you want to kill him in the first place? I wasn't even aware that you were acquainted with him."

"Oh, I was more than acquainted with him, Doctor. I used to date him. Before he dumped me, that is..." Leendel trailed off, temporarily lost in her memories.

"And that's why you wanted to kill him?"

"I didn't want to kill him!" Leendel protested. "I only wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer a little the way he'd made me suffer!"

"Perhaps you'd better start at the beginning, Crewman. See if we can't figure this out," McCoy advised.

Leendel took a deep breath and said, "I haven't been on this ship very long, Doc, and, with my...temper...I've always had a hard time making friends. So when Proo - that is, Ensign Jed-Ghar - started flirting with me while he was going through the breakfast line...well, I was in heaven.

"I'd noticed him before that, of course; he was very sexy, and in better shape than he should have been, considering all the junk he wolfed down in the mornings. Bacon, scrapple, sausage, hash browns, eggs - all the stuff that's guaranteed to clog your arteries.

"After flirting for awhile, Proo asked me out, and later we began dating seriously - or at least I thought it was seriously," Leendel sighed. "I was so in love with him. All he'd have to do is crook his little finger and I would gladly jump up and climb through deck after deck of Jeffries tubes just to be with him.

"I should have known it was too good to last."

As Crewman Leendel paused in her narrative, the cat Isis, who had previously been watching over the autopsy preparations, leapt up onto Leendel's biobed and rubbed her head against the woman's right hand, which had begun to clench in remembered anger. Leendel took strength from the cat's apparent sympathy and continued with her tale.

"It started small, Doc. He started breaking dates, then he wouldn't return the messages I left on his com terminal. The final straw came the one morning he strolled through the breakfast line with a new little honey draped all over him. I asked him what was going on, and he looked down his nose at me and mocked me, humiliated me in front of everyone in line.

"If he'd wanted to break up with me, fine. He could have said so nicely and privately. But this...this was too much," Leendel said between gritted teeth. "So, to get back at him, I figured I'd slip a little something into his breakfast. Something to unsettle his stomach, make him puke his guts up."

"What did you use?" McCoy asked.

"Klingon ipecac. I made a batch of scrapple with it, and kept a plate warming in the oven until Proo was about to come through the line. Then, when he was shoveling other food onto his own plate, I slid two or three pieces of scrapple on there too. The jerk never even noticed."

"Rather strong stuff, that Klingon ipecac," McCoy chided her.

"Well, it was supposed to be strong, Doc! He was supposed to suffer - he just wasn't supposed to die..."

_TBC…_


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? PECK BRIM ODDER PUTZ

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room...  
_**  
Constable K-yoh had ordered that the two wine servers be brought forward for questioning. Kirk and Spock looked on as she began to interrogate the servers, flanked by her fellow constables. Chief Minister K-bec and First Greeter K-tel also remained in the room for the proceedings, but the other four councilors had been dismissed.

Kirk found his attention swaying between the questions at hand and the way that K-yoh's robes fit her lightly muscled form. He wondered if she'd welcome any advances from him, or whether she'd lay him out flat on the floor with a bloody nose if he tried anything more presumptuous than a peck on the cheek. He'd much prefer that response to being laughed at and called the Jheniffurian equivalent of a putz. A chirp from his communicator kept him from further speculation.

Kirk stepped to the back of the room and flipped open his communicator. "Kirk here. What is it?" he asked softly, trying to keep his voice down so as not to disturb the constables' work.

_"McCoy here, Captain. I've come across something interesting that I thought you'd want to hear about."_

"What is it?" Kirk queried as he glanced across the room at the interrogation. "Have you found out what killed Ensign Jed-Ghar?"

_"Not yet, Captain, but I'm only about halfway through my tests. I did, however, get an unusual confession from someone who claims to be responsible for his death."_

"Who would that be?"

_"Crewman Leendel, one of the cook's assistants down in the Messhall,"_ McCoy replied. _"Apparently, she had been seeing Ensign Jed-Ghar socially until recently, when he broke off the relationship. Chekov and Sulu brought her in a little while ago; she had collapsed into hysterics after hearing about Jed-Ghar's death. After I sedated her, she was calm enough to talk to, whereupon she confessed to slipping something into his breakfast this morning."_

"What was that?"

A long pause came over the communicator before McCoy finally answered, _"Klingon ipecac."_

Kirk snorted and choked down a laugh, which drew the notice of the others in the banquet room. Kirk threw them an apologetic look and nodded at them to continue before turning his attention back to his communicator.

"Klingon ipecac?" Kirk asked, the struggle to rein in his laughter still evident in his voice. "I'm sorry, Doctor - I just never figured that as an instrument of vengeance."

_"An unusual choice indeed, Captain,"_ McCoy agreed. _"Odder still, it is virtually impossible to kill someone with ipecac alone. You could have given Ensign Jed-Ghar a ten-gallon drum filled to the brim with the pure stuff and, supposing you could actually get him to drink any of it in the first place, he would get too ill to continue long before it reached toxic levels in his system."_

"Plus, he didn't throw up," Kirk added. "So what are you saying, Doctor?"

_"That, in my considered medical opinion, whatever killed the Ensign, it wasn't the ipecac."_

"Very well, Doctor. Thanks for the update. Continue with your tests and keep me posted. Kirk out..."

_TBC…_


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? GUILDS FURRY LIKED SWEAT

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

At some point after her talk with the Doctor, Crewman Leendel had succumbed completely to the sedative coursing through her veins and had fallen into a deep sleep.

Later, as she regained consciousness, she heard the murmur of Dr. McCoy's voice talking to the Captain, who was still down on the planet. Leendel smiled at the door separating McCoy's office from the rest of Sickbay. She had liked McCoy ever since she'd first met him; her own abrasive nature had immediately recognized a kindred spirit in the Doctor's crustiness.

Leendel hadn't expected the Doctor's thoughtfulness, however. He had listened to the confession of her misdeed calmly and without judgment; he had just let her talk, with minimal interruption. Afterwards, even though he had expressed his skepticism that the ipecac had killed Ensign Jed-Ghar, McCoy had tested the body to make sure of it, and had managed to share the results with her before she fell asleep.

_"Ah, Proo,"_ she thought as she glanced regretfully at his body. Leendel was vastly relieved that she hadn't killed her former lover after all, but she still felt some pangs of guilt. She was pretty sure that her elders in the Culinary and Bakery guilds back on her home planet would be horrified at what she had done. No doubt she'd be getting an official reprimand from them once this incident got out - right after the dishonorable discharge she expected to get from Starfleet.

As her gaze began to wander back to the door of the Doctor's office, Leendel noticed that Ensign Jed-Ghar's uniform - which had been removed from his body, neatly folded and set aside on a nearby table - now lay in a jumbled heap on the floor. She also noticed that Isis was down there as well, standing over the pile of clothes and pawing away at it.

When she was done, Isis hopped up onto Leendel's biobed and pressed her warm furry body comfortingly against the crewman's chest, purring loudly all the while. Leendel smiled at the cat and rubbed her ears for a minute or two, until a foul smell began to assail her nostrils. Leendel sniffed around, then looked down at the pile of clothes. _"Uh oh,"_ she thought. _"I don't suppose those are sweat stains on Proo's uniform now..."_

_TBC…_


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? CENT PREP REBUT KITH

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room..._**

After Kirk finished his conversation with Dr. McCoy, he closed his communicator and returned to his prior position beside his first officer. He considered asking Spock what he had missed, but he knew that the ever-efficient Vulcan would provide any relevant details later. He turned his attention back to the interrogation.

"Let me see if I understand you," Constable K-yoh said to the two wine servers. "Before you brought the cart out into the council chamber, you were assisting in the kitchen?"

"Yes, ma'am," the older male replied. "We just brought the wine up from the cellar and put the bottle on the cart next to the glasses; then we were told to help out in the kitchen. The chef is very fussy and likes to do her own prep work and all, but there were still a few other things to do before the banquet."

"And the wine was left unattended while you did this?" K-yoh asked.

The two servers looked at each other nervously before the older one answered again. "Yes, ma'am."

"And, to your knowledge, the only people who had entered the banquet room before the council members and their guests were yourselves and the kitchen staff?" K-yoh pressed.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Excuse me, Constable" K-tel interrupted. "I do not mean to rebut the good servant's testimony, but I wish to make a statement here, in the interest of a thorough investigation."

"By all means, First Greeter," K-yoh nodded.

"I myself was in the room earlier, though it was before the wine was brought up, so these servants would not have known that."

"And why were you in the banquet room?" K-yoh asked.

"I had brought in the ceremonial wine glasses, from the safe in the council's inner offices," K-tel replied, waving a small jeweled key that she wore on a chain around her neck. "As I was the First Greeter assigned to this group, it was my responsibility to fetch the glasses before going to meet the guests out front."

K-yoh nodded thoughtfully, then turned back to the two wine servers. "Leaving the banquet room aside for the moment...does anyone else have access to the wine cellar?"

The two males looked at each other again before the older one replied. "Any member of the wine staff can go in there. We were the only ones on duty today, though."

"So the wine could have been poisoned even before it got to the banquet room?" K-yoh asked suggestively.

The wine servers turned pale at the Constable's implied accusation and fell to their knees in supplication. The older one cried, "By my kith and kin, ma'am, I swear that we did not do it! You must believe me! It would be unthinkable..."

As the servers kept protesting their innocence, Kirk leaned closer to Spock and whispered, "You've been watching all of this so far, Spock. Penny for your thoughts?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Captain, I fail to see the relevance of a one-cent piece to my opinion of these proceedings."

Kirk sighed and whispered back, "Spock, you really have to brush up on your metaphors..."

TBC… 


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? HEAP FILE OUNCE OGEES OUTIE

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room..._**

As Constable K-yoh continued with her investigation, now having begun to question the members of the kitchen staff, Kirk felt his mind start to wander once again into less-than-captainly areas. His superiors would be sure to frown at his inattention to such a weighty matter, but, at the moment, he didn't care. He was swimming in a sea of hormones, surrounded by incredibly gorgeous women - he would just have to make sure to get all the facts from Spock afterwards, before he had to file a report with Starfleet.

As he watched Constable K-yoh stalk back and forth before each interviewee, firing off question after question, Kirk was captivated by her movements, by the way her tightly-controlled muscles shifted beneath the surface of her skin. A sudden image flashed through his mind - himself, tied down in one of the banquet room chairs, K-yoh snapping a whip at him and grilling him without an ounce of mercy...

_"Oh lord, Jim, get a hold of yourself!"_ he thought, fighting the intense stimulation. _"Try to think of something else, or you're going to end up in an embarrassing heap on the floor!"_

Kirk was turning his gaze away from the Constable, trying desperately to find another focus for his wayward thoughts, when he spied K-tel standing next to the Chief Minister. He recalled his attraction to the First Greeter as he admired the way that her robes seemed to accentuate the smooth firmness of her abdomen. He pondered her stomach for a moment as he considered whether K-tel was an innie or an outie. Kirk preferred a concave bellybutton in his women; he wasn't sure why, he just knew that it was so. Provided that K-tel was an innie and K-yoh was not, the scales would definitely tip back in the First Greeter's favor.

Spock, meanwhile, was suffering through a bit of distraction of his own. He found the interrogation to be too dull and unsurprising to warrant his full attention, so he turned half of his mind to his previous study of the building's architecture. He contemplated the ogees that topped the windows lining the walls of the banquet room, comparing that relative ostentatiousness with the building's spartan exterior. A mix of styles, he theorized, of which Frank Lloyd Wright would not approve...

TBC… 


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? DAMP HULK BEEF GORES

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

Mr. Scott had decided to check in on Ensign P'len after he'd finished his turn at the transporter room controls. As he entered Sickbay, Scotty scanned the room quickly, then headed over to his junior officer's biobed. Dr. McCoy, who had resumed the autopsy of Ensign Jed-Ghar after speaking with the Captain, noticed the arrival of the Chief Engineer. He stepped away from the microscope he had been looking into and went over to speak with Mr. Scott.

"Come to check on my patient, Scotty?" McCoy asked.

"Aye," Scotty replied, looking down at P'len with a worried look on his face. "It was a bad knock to the head he took down in Engineerin'. Is he gettin' any better? I've heard that he's been sayin' things that are a wee bit strange."

At that moment, almost as if on cue, P'len's facial muscles started to twitch, though his eyes remained closed - and he began to speak very rapidly, relating a tale to some unseen listener in his mind.

"And then Sandusky - what does he do?" P'len babbled. "He joins the crowd down in the street and starts running. I tried to talk him out of it, but it didn't work.

"There was this one really nasty bull that was tossing guys left and right. He was a big scary hulk of a beast - the locals called him "El Toro de Muerto". So anyway, Sandy's running, and he doesn't see this thing coming up behind him. I tried to warn him, but it was too noisy in the street and he didn't hear me yelling from the balcony. This bull catches Sandy and throws him against a wall. And then what does he do? The damn bull gores him! All the other bulls are running past him, chasing the other guys down the street - but this brute decides to rip into Sandy like he'd just caught Sandy in bed with his wife! It was horrible...all that blood..."

As Ensign P'len's voice trailed off, sobbing, Scotty picked one of his hands up and held it, in an attempt to comfort the distraught officer. P'len's palm was unusually damp and cool, and the Chief Engineer felt his concern deepen.

"That's actually one of the more sensible episodes I've heard from him - I can recognize all of the words," McCoy commented. "I'm curious, though - who is Sandusky?"

"He was the lad's roommate at the Academy. He was from Michigan, maybe Ohio - I forget which," Mr. Scott replied. "Anyway, as P'len tells it, the two of them traveled to Spain during senior break - and they visited Pamplona, where the locals were revivin' that old Earth custom of the 'Runnin' of the Bulls'. Sandusky decided to join in."

"What happened to him?" McCoy asked.

Scotty looked at McCoy in angry surprise. "Dinna ye fathom what the poor lad was sayin'? His friend died!"

"I'm sorry, Scotty; I didn't realize," McCoy said with remorse. "My mind's been all wrapped up in this investigation; and I found something, some substance, just now in the latest blood sample that has me scratching my head."

"And what would that be?"

"I'm not sure. It's ironic that the ensign mentioned bulls, because the closest match that the computer can find for this substance is a feed supplement that the residents of Hoya 6 used to give to their beef cattle..."

_TBC…_


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? SNOUT GRIM BOIL TEMPT

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

"Beef cattle? Feed supplement? What the devil would that lad want with somethin' like that?" Mr. Scott asked.

Dr. McCoy smiled. "Perhaps I should have been a little more specific. It wasn't so much a feed supplement as it was a psychotropic agent."

"A psycho-what?"

"A drug, Scotty. A mind-altering drug," McCoy replied. "Apparently the Hoyans needed to drug the cattle in order to have any kind of control over them."

At Scotty's skeptical expression, McCoy continued, "Have you ever seen Hoyan cattle, Scotty? About the size of Earth elephants, and twice as aggressive as Klingons."

A grim look crossed Scotty's face. "After our last battle with those brutes, I find that hard to believe."

"Maybe so, but once the computer made the near-match, I did some reading up on the subject," McCoy said. "The substance was called 'hekim'. It was made from a plant native to Hoya 6. The natives would gather the plant's leaves and boil them in a large kettle of water overnight. In the morning, all that would be left in the kettle was the leaf residue, or hekim - which, once dried, was mixed in with the cattle feed."

"Whatever," Scotty said, shaking his head. "As long as it worked. But if it worked so well on the beasties, why did they stop usin' it?"

"Well, it worked so well on the 'beasties' that it also affected those non-natives who happened to eat their flesh," McCoy answered. "Either the Hoyans themselves have a natural immunity to hekim, or just a tolerance born of long exposure to it. In any case, there were several diplomatic incidents mentioned in the files - where visiting dignitaries who had eaten the beef were inadvertently goaded into uncharacteristic acts." McCoy chuckled.

"What are ye laughin' at?"

"I was thinking of this one incident I read about - where a Vulcan envoy punched one of the Hoyan officials in the snout after he was told, during some treaty negotiations, that his figures were 'on the nose'." McCoy chuckled again. "I'm sure that he was appropriately mortified after the hekim was out of his system. It's just that I kept imagining Spock when I was reading about this."

Scotty grinned appreciatively at the thought. "Aye, I can imagine. So...what happened with the hekim stuff after that?"

"Once the Hoyans realized hekim's effect on other races - how suggestible it made their individuals, and how open the situation was to abuse - they developed alternative drugs for the cattle and hekim production itself was banned. Of course, just because it was banned doesn't mean that it stopped..." McCoy said wryly.

"Well, Doc, I don't have any hekim, but can I talk ye into joinin' me for a wee nip of scotch?" Scotty asked. "I'm off duty now and I could use a little company."

"Don't tempt me - not that I couldn't use a drink right about now," McCoy sighed. "But the Captain's waiting on these results and, unfortunately, dead bodies don't autopsy themselves..."

_TBC…_


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? MOGUL SEEING MUSK COUP

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_The council's banquet room..._**

The interrogation had wound down, and Constable K-yoh had just released the last of the kitchen staff to return to his post.

The constable bowed her head to K-bec. "If you please, Chief Minister, we will be heading down to the cellar to question the rest of the wine staff. I thank you for your patience, and of course I'll let you know immediately if I turn up any information."

K-bec bowed her head in reply. Constable K-yoh turned abruptly and stalked out of the room, trailed by her two associates. Kirk was disappointed to note that K-yoh hadn't even glanced in his direction as she left. He felt further bruising to his ego as he recalled that she had barely acknowledged his presence after she had been introduced.

"Maybe she's seeing someone else," Kirk groused silently, his mouth forming a small pout. "Or maybe she just likes girls." Then he looked over at First Greeter K-tel, and an old Earth proverb about a bird in the hand flitted through his mind. Ah, but how he'd like to get his hands on that 'bird'!

"You don't know it, but you've just scored a real coup, sweetheart," he thought boastfully, as he continued to leer at K-tel. "You're about to bag a famous starship captain."

"...since it appears that we are unable to offer our hospitality to your crew. I do hope that you will be able to attend?" K-bec asked Kirk, who was embarrassed to realize that she must have been speaking to him while he was mentally stripping K-tel.

"Well, I...uh..." Kirk fumbled for words, not knowing what in the hell he was being asked to attend.

"I do not see the harm in accepting the Jheniffurians' most gracious invitation to dinner, Captain," Spock intervened, wanting to keep Kirk from looking like a complete idiot.

K-bec beamed. "Yes, it will be a relatively small affair for a state dinner, just a few honored guests of the council - including yourselves, gentlemen - and I'm sure you will find the company most stimulating. Visiting the capital right now, as a matter of fact, is the ceramics mogul K-olin. Her company supplied most of the fine porcelain you saw on the banquet table earlier."

K-tel had stepped over to stand next to Kirk, and when the Chief Minister finished speaking, she leaned in closely to whisper, "I do hope you will be able to join us, Captain. Perhaps afterwards, the two of us will be able to get back to our...plans."

"Our...plans?" Kirk whispered back, intoxicated by the sweet feminine musk that wafted from her skin and tickled his nose.

"Yes, silly," K-tel purred. "Me, thee, and a CD of K-sea? She plays the pipes perfectly, as I'm sure you'll agree..."

_TBC…_


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004 for an online trivia/games group I still belong to. I had taken it as a personal challenge to use the words I garnered from one of the daily games to inspire me to write each chapter.

The words that inspired this chapter? SOON PAGE QUID BOMB HUGE

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Sickbay..._**

The dark shape hid in the shadows of Sickbay. It watched as Mr. Scott, having been unsuccessful in getting the Doctor to join him for a drink, gazed regretfully at Ensign P'len before leaving. "Ye'll be right as rain, I guarantee it," it heard Scotty say encouragingly to the now-silent officer. "I'll even bet a quid on it, but you'll have to come down to Engineerin' and take it from my wallet yerself."

After Mr. Scott had gone, the shape left the shadows and wandered around the room, silent and unnoticed. Dr. McCoy had returned to the microscope he had been looking into, and was now dividing his attention between that instrument and a page of text from the Starfleet file on Hoya 6.

'You are definitely on the track, Doctor,' the shape thought. 'Soon, I'm sure, you will find the answers you seek - what will you do with them once you find them?'

The being then drifted over, still unseen, to Ensign Jed-Ghar's biobed - and a huge wave of guilt swept through its heart. 'I am truly sorry for what we've done to you,' it apologized silently to the ensign's corpse. 'It was not meant for you; no one was supposed to die. We were only trying to change the world. Our cause is just and true, and we have done a great deal of good - but we got arrogant and careless, and you got caught in the bomb blast.'

The being pressed against Jed-Ghar's limp, lifeless hand as it rested on the biobed. 'You shall not have died in vain,' the being vowed. 'We will learn, we will be more careful - and, I promise you, it will never end like this again...'

_TBC…_


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? FACET WORM MESH MILD BUOY

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**_The Captain's quarters..._**

As Kirk rested on the couch in his living area, he sipped from a glass of diet cola, nibbled on cubes of mild cheddar cheese, and pondered over recent events.

Kirk and Spock had beamed back up to the Enterprise soon after accepting Chief Minister K-bec's invitation to dinner that evening. Spock had decided to return to the Bridge to jot down a few impressions from the questioning while they were still fresh in his mind. Kirk, needing to rest up before the dinner and feeling a few hunger pangs after missing lunch, had decided to pick up something light in the Messhall and take it back to his quarters.

While in the Messhall, he'd bumped into Mr. Scott, who'd sat hunched over a cup of coffee, looking rather despondent. Kirk knew Scotty was concerned about Ensign P'len; he had a kind of fatherly feeling for all of his crew down in Engineering and he took it especially hard when any one of them was hurt.

Kirk had sat down next to Scotty for a moment or two, trying to engage him in cheerful conversation - to no avail. This was one facet of Kirk's position for which he felt ill-equipped. Face the Captain with hostile enemies and he knew how to blow them out of the sky; face him with finicky diplomats and he knew how to charm them around to his point of view - but face him with depressed crewmembers in need of counseling, or just a sympathetic ear, and all he could seem to do lately was crack jokes to try to make them laugh.

When even his impression of Spock on helium had failed to buoy his Chief Engineer's spirits - in fact, it had caused Scotty to rush out of the Messhall, muttering to himself, "Maybe it isn't such a bad idea to drink scotch alone, after all" - Kirk had known that he seriously needed to brush up on his interpersonal skills in that area.

Kirk continued to munch on the cheddar cubes while he lay on his couch and considered one area in which he knew that his interpersonal skills were top notch. He'd always seemed to mesh well with the ladies, even before attending Starfleet Academy, and his skill with the opposite sex was legendary amongst his peers. _"Still,"_ he thought, grinning, _"it never hurts to keep in practice!"_

Keeping in practice was something that he fully intended to pursue with K-tel later that evening - but, as Kirk recalled her obvious eagerness, he figured it would probably be too easy a job to worm his way into her robes to be a proper exercise of his abilities...

_TBC…_


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? PINE SLICE STORY BASK

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**_Sickbay..._**

Crewman Leendel had dozed off soon after Isis had 'done her duty' on Ensign Jed-Ghar's uniform. When Leendel woke up again, she recalled the incident and looked down at the floor, only to discover that someone had already removed his soiled clothes. She glanced over at the biobed where Jed-Ghar's body lay and saw that Isis was now lying on the bed next to him, as if keeping watch. _"Silly cat,"_ she chuckled silently. _"Can't decide whether to piddle on or pity him, can you?"_

As she pondered Isis' motives, it suddenly occurred to Leendel that she had probably been in Sickbay for a few hours - and that she had not been finished with her preparations for dinner when she'd collapsed and been brought in. Leendel struggled to a sitting position, and was about to swing her legs over the edge of the biobed when she felt her shoulders being pushed gently, but firmly, back down to the mattress.

"Where exactly do you think you're going?" Dr. McCoy asked.

Leendel started to bristle at his gruff tone, but then she looked up and saw the concern in the Doctor's eyes. "I have to finish getting dinner ready," she said apologetically. "I was in the middle of making cherry tarts when I...when I..."

"Was interrupted," McCoy supplied helpfully. "Don't worry about it. They'll have someone covering for you until I release you from my care."

Leendel felt an unexpected tingling sensation along the back of her neck when McCoy said "my care". Any urge she'd ever had to pine over Ensign Jed-Ghar quickly dissipated as she considered the gentleman in front of her.

McCoy misinterpreted her gaze and lightly warned, "I've heard about how stubborn you are. Don't even think about sneaking out of here to go puttering around in the Messhall."

"Not even if I promise to bring back a slice of my famous strawberry-rhubarb pie for you?" Leendel teased.

"Not even then," McCoy replied, trying to hold back a smile. "Now behave."

"If I promise to behave, will you tell me a story?"

McCoy chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, but it will have to be a real short one. I have those tests to get back to."

Leendel nodded as she snuggled into the sheets and prepared to bask in the glow of the Doctor's undivided attention...

_TBC…_


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? EPIC FIVE TRUCK BUSTY

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**_The Bridge..._**

Mr. Spock stood at his station on the Bridge, dutifully entering his notes on the interrogation into a draft copy of his report to Captain Kirk. He highlighted the aspects of the proceedings that had caused him concern at the time, and that he wanted to be sure to investigate later - and he pondered the implications of each.

Despite his endorsement of the invitation to the state dinner, Spock did have a few reservations about the wisdom of attending - not the least of which was the prospect of his Captain's coming on like an old Earth 18-wheeled truck to every female at the event.

Though Spock was willing to admit that the women he had seen so far on Jheniffur 8 were more than attractive enough to arouse the average human male, he also knew that Captain Kirk was not overly discriminating when it came to his women. They had to be female and beautiful - and _alive_ - but aside from that, it didn't seem to matter much if they were smart or dumb, innie or outie (although the former was preferred), busty or flat-chested (although the former was _definitely_ preferred!), black or white or blue or brown or red. Kirk's harem was equal opportunity in action!

Spock was concerned that the short hormonal attention span he had witnessed in Kirk down on the planet would be shortened even further in a room full of stunningly beautiful diplomats and dignitaries - and that Kirk would commit some faux pas even more embarrassing than the lapses of concentration that had afflicted him in the banquet room.

As Spock considered the possible aftermath of such an episode, he felt his stress level rising. Once more, he regretted his human half - the legacy of which kept him from the complete inner serenity that all full-blooded Vulcans seemed to achieve so easily. Spock felt the need to retire to the quiet of his quarters and try to recapture a small piece of that serenity. Perhaps he would do so by indulging in one of his favorite pastimes - reading Vulcan poetry.

Some months prior, his father had sent him an antique copy of "The Ballad of Tupak and T'ping", which came in a set of five thick volumes that he had not yet found the time to read through. It was a classic of Vulcan verse, telling the epic story of bondmates who had defied the emotional excesses of the early Vulcans to embrace the cool, calm clarity of logic. As had generations of Vulcans before him, Spock hoped to draw strength from the tale of their struggle...

_TBC…_


	28. Chapter 28

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? SURF EXILE BUNKS SHAG

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**_The Captain's quarters..._**

After he finished the plate of cheese cubes, Kirk placed it on the coffee table and then stretched out on his couch, snuggling down into the deep, soft cushions. "_Ah! The perks of command_," he thought gratefully. This was only a couch - not even a bed - and it was already infinitely more comfortable than any of the bunks he had been forced to rest upon during his Academy days. He wondered briefly how comfortable K-tel's bed or couch would be, and how soon he would have the opportunity to find out.

As he continued to relax, Kirk let his mind wander over to the topic of Ensign Jed-Ghar's death. He reviewed what he knew of the officer, which wasn't much. He knew the man had liked to work hard, party hard, and drink even harder - and wondered if the ensign had ever indulged in anything stronger than drink while on the Enterprise, like his former crewmember Yeoman Rand had.

"Poor Janice," Kirk sighed regretfully as he thought about that pretty young woman, who was now in Starfleet-imposed exile in a detox center on Earth. Kirk missed her blond hair, her blue eyes, her short skirts...he even missed her efficiency in the office and on the bridge. He had had no one on staff since who had been as capable as she had been of keeping him on top of all the reports and files and correspondence that infest a Captain's life.

Kirk recalled the incident that had led to Yeoman Rand's involuntary medical leave. It had occurred during the crew's mandatory yearly physicals - at the end of which, each crewmember would receive the standard booster shots for Denebian dropsy, Romulan rubella and the like. The yeoman had experienced a severe and unexpected allergic reaction to one of the shots she received - unexpected because this particular serum had never elicited that response from her before. She had been laid up in Sickbay for days as Dr. McCoy had worked feverishly to discover the reason for her illness. It had eventually been revealed that Yeoman Rand had been indulging in several recreational herbal supplements of a less-than-legal nature - one of which had reacted dramatically with the serum. Once she had recovered, Janice Rand had been put on medical suspension and taken off the Enterprise.

Kirk yawned and stretched, then checked his chronometer. There was plenty of time yet before he needed to get ready for the dinner, so he decided to take a nap. After setting the alarm, he asked the computer to play a random selection of relaxing background sounds - and soon the soft roar of a gentle ocean surf began to filter throughout the room. As the audio program continued to run, Kirk drifted deeper and deeper into sleep, until at last, his hand slipped off the side of the couch to rest upon the shag carpeting on the floor...

_TBC…  
_


	29. Chapter 29

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? ONES COME BUCK FLEX

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**_The Captain's quarters..._**

Kirk felt as though he had barely shut his eyes when the alarm sounded and startled him awake. As he sat up on the couch, he rested his elbows on his thighs and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

He glanced over at the chronometer. Damn! He must have set it for the wrong hour - it was nearly time for Spock to stop by and pick him up on the way to the transporter room. Right then, as if on cue, the doorchime sounded. "Come in, Spock," Kirk muttered groggily, not bothering to look up as the door to the corridor slid open.

"Captain, I see that you are not ready for the dinner," Spock observed as he stepped into the living area, the door sliding closed behind him.

"What? Something wrong with what I'm wearing?" Kirk grinned sleepily, looking down at his rumpled T-shirt and sweatpants. He looked up at Spock, who was standing before him looking crisp and efficient in a freshly-pressed dress uniform. Kirk pretended to sigh. "Oh well, guess I'll change. Wouldn't want to buck Starfleet regulations on proper attire for state occasions, would we?"

As Kirk stood up and started to walk over towards his bedroom, something tickled at the back of his mind and he turned to look back at Spock. "Isn't that one of the old dress uniforms you're wearing, Spock? Didn't Starfleet redesign them and issue new ones just recently?"

"Indeed, Captain," Spock replied, looking somewhat embarrassed. "However, when I took mine out a little while ago in order to get them pressed, I discovered that Starfleet had sent me the wrong size. No one else on board shares my exact dress uniform size, or I would have attempted to borrow one. Logic suggested to me that this," he said, gesturing at his clothing, "would be better than attending in an ill-fitting uniform. I apologize for not checking this out sooner."

"Quite alright, Spock. You'll do fine," Kirk nodded, chuckling.

"Captain, I fail to see the humor in this," Spock stated, as huffily as was possible for a Vulcan.

"I'm sorry, Spock. I'm not laughing at you," Kirk said. "I had a sudden picture of you showing up for the dinner with your trouser cuffs up around mid-calf."

At Spock's raised eyebrow, Kirk shook his head. "Never mind. I'm just glad that these new uniform jackets have a looser fit in the shoulders and arms. There are few things more embarrassing than hearing the seams of your jacket splitting as you flex your muscles to impress some cute admiral's daughter at a Starfleet ball..."

_TBC…_


	30. Chapter 30

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? HARE WAGER BEADY COATI

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**_Sickbay..._**

Crewman Leendel rose up on her elbows from where she lay on the biobed and looked over to where Dr. McCoy was working. He alternated several times between staring down through his microscope and glaring at the computer display next to him - and, all the while, muttering under his breath.

"Tests not going well, Doc?" Leendel asked. "Maybe you should step back for a moment to clear your head. After all, you've been at that for a while; I'll wager you could use a break about now."

McCoy glanced briefly over his shoulder, then turned back to his microscope. "I took a break a little while ago; I'm fine."

"Doc," Leendel protested, "that was a couple of hours ago, when you told me that story of your trip to Central America. You've been working non-stop since then - except for this last half-hour, when all you've been doing is hopping back and forth like a rabid hare and growling at your equipment."

"That's not hopping; that's pacing," McCoy snapped. "And I'm not growling; I'm thinking out loud. I feel I'm close to an answer, if I can just figure out what I'm missing...I'm just...just..."

"Spinning your wheels," Leendel interjected. "Now step away from the microscope, Doc, before your eyes get all red and beady and you start to scare the children."

McCoy looked back in surprise, only to see her smiling at him. "Are you always this much of a nag?" he asked, annoyed.

"Absolutely. You should have booted me out of Sickbay when you had the chance," Leendel grinned unrepentantly.

McCoy walked over to stand by the side of her bed. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "You mean well. This is just so frustrating. I've got these two odd substances in the ensign's body, neither of which is fatal by itself - nor, apparently, in interaction with the other. And yet, I feel the answer to this is in there somewhere, if I can just figure it out."

"I know you will, Doc," Leendel said warmly, patting his arm. "Just let it sit and stew for a while. It'll come to you. And, in the meantime, you can tell me more about your trip - and just how that coati ended up in your backpack..."

_TBC…_


	31. Chapter 31

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? MUTED PATIO LEAKY CRAGS

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**_The Chief Minister's residence..._**

Kirk and Spock materialized on the front lawn of Chief Minister K-bec's home, which was located on the outskirts of the capital city. The dinner was originally to have been held back at the government building, but the Chief Minister had decided to host the event herself at the last minute. She had contacted Kirk on the ship a short while ago with the explanation of the change in plans and the new coordinates for beaming down.

"I do apologize, Captain," K-bec had said as Kirk had watched her on the com terminal in his quarters. "It really is most inconvenient, but our dear Constable is taking her duty very seriously. She is right in the middle of her investigation - in fact, at this moment, I believe she is still terrorizing the wine staff and going over the cellar bottle by leaky bottle. Unfortunately, she will not release the banquet room for any reason until she is through with all of her questioning."

"That's quite alright, Chief Minister," Kirk had said. "I understand, and I look forward to seeing your beautiful home."

"Ah, but it's not the home, Captain, it's the location," K-bec smiled. "There is some lovely scenery as one looks out from my back patio, including one of my planet's most famous geologic attractions. There's a pair of rather distinctively shaped crags on Mount Gollphier known as 'Jhen's Twins'. I really look forward to showing them to you."

The Chief Minister had signed off soon after this exchange, and Kirk and Spock had proceeded to the transporter room to beam down to this site. No sooner had the tingling of the transporter beam ended than they were met by First Greeter K-tel.

"Greetings, weary space-travelers," she hailed with a grin as she stepped forward. "Welcome to Mahntree-Ahl." At the men's quizzical looks, K-tel gestured toward the building. "The Chief Minister's house. Pretentious to name one's residence, I know, but..." K-tel shrugged. "I suppose we all have our little vanities."

"Not a problem," Kirk said, staring at K-tel - who was looking particularly stunning, dressed in a clingy gown in muted shades of blue and green shot through with the occasional faint streak of silver. "I'm glad to see you again, although I'm sure you're probably sick of seeing us by now," he teased.

"Not at all, Captain. Besides, it's my job. I'm your First Greeter," K-tel purred, stepping up to Kirk and wrapping her arm through his. "I'm yours until you leave..."

_TBC…_


	32. Chapter 32

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? SOURS REPAY TOUR FUND

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**_Sickbay...  
_**  
"You want to hear about the coati, eh?" McCoy asked as he sat down next to Leendel's biobed.

"Well, yeah," Leendel grinned. "You kinda glossed over that part of your story before - and that made me very curious. So go ahead, give me all those embarrassing little details."

"Fine," McCoy answered, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. "This coati thing happened during the second week of our tour of the Central American rainforests. You remember I told you I was there with a group of med students?"

Leendel nodded. "You were studying the plants, right?"

"Right," McCoy agreed. "We had each gotten a fellowship from the United Federation Rainforest Fund for the summer. In the past, the plants of the rainforest yielded many a new wonder drug to treat old Earth diseases. The U.F.R.F. had us investigating whether any of those plants had the potential to do the same for the more exotic diseases we come across as citizens of the universe."

"Okay, so you're in your second week, and...?" Leendel prodded.

"And we're setting up camp for the night," McCoy said. "I had put my backpack down to help one of the other students - Mary Jane, I think it was - set up her tent. When I came back, I found this ringed tail sticking straight out of my pack. Apparently, the critter had sniffed out some fruit I was carrying in there. I shooed him away, not wanting to share it with him.

"I tried to get clever by hanging my pack on a nearby tree branch, thinking that would keep him away from my fruit - not realizing that coatis are equally at home in the trees," McCoy grinned, smacking his forehead before continuing.

"We were sitting around the campfire that night. Simon had brought a bottle of Scotch and some lemons, and he was there mixing up whiskey sours for the rest of us before dinner. I heard a rustling noise overhead, and when I looked up with a flashlight, I saw my backpack shaking on the branch and that same ringed tail sticking out of it. I got mad, and I was trying to think of a suitable way to repay the little bugger for trying to steal my fruit when the branch snapped - sending my pack to the ground, coati and all."

Leendel laughed. "What happened then?"

"Well, the coati was startled, and he was flipping out while trying to get out of the backpack. He finally made it out, and then the cheeky little thing, instead of running away, sat at the edge of the light from the campfire and chattered away like he was scolding us for his fall.

"Simon got the bright idea to try giving him one of the lemons, since the critter was obviously so keen for fruit. But he wouldn't take the lemon from Simon, he wouldn't take it from me, nor from any of the other guys who tried. It wasn't until Mary Jane offered the lemon to him that he came up and took it."

"I'm sure it was nothing personal, Doc," Leendel teased, patting McCoy's arm. "After all, he did go after your backpack first."

"Who knows? That coati showed up every night after that, and he never did take anything from the guys - only from Mary Jane or one of the other girls."

"What can I say, Doc? He obviously liked girls," Leendel snickered. "Or maybe coatis are allergic to testosterone."

"Allergic to testosterone, that's rich," McCoy chuckled, then paused. "Allergic to testosterone?" he repeated in a distracted tone. He suddenly bolted up out of his chair and looked down at Leendel. "Leendel, you're a genius!" he exclaimed, bending over to grab her by the shoulders and kiss her on the right cheek before bounding over to the lab area.

Leendel put her hand to her right cheek and sighed. _"Two inches to the left,"_ she thought, _"and _he'd_ have been the genius..."_

_TBC…_


	33. Chapter 33

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? AROUND JUGS HONKS DART

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**_The lobby of the Chief Minister's residence..._**

K-tel escorted Kirk and Spock into the residence, maintaining her grip on Kirk's arm as she walked beside him, while Spock trailed behind. As they entered, the Vulcan allowed his eyes to dart about the lobby and was intrigued at the apparent lack of activity.

"Greetings, gentlemen!" K-bec's hail broke into Spock's thoughts as the Chief Minister strode briskly into the lobby from a door towards the back. "Welcome to my humble home!"

"Thank you for inviting us, Chief Minister," Kirk responded as he made his own brief inspection of the hall. "It's a beautiful place you have here. I'm curious, though. I don't see anyone else around; are we too early?"

"Oh, no, no," K-bec shook her head. "You are right on time; everyone else is late. I apologize, but this last-minute change of location has thrown everyone for a loop. We weren't able to notify all of the guests on such short notice, so I have sent some of my staff over to the government center to see if they've shown up there. I've been told the others are on their way."

"I understand, Chief Minister," Kirk said. "Regarding the government center - have you heard anything further from Constable K-yoh? Has she made any progress?"

"Well, I believe she's progressed from terrorizing the wine staff to terrorizing the custodial staff," K-bec smiled, "but aside from that, I've heard nothing more. Rest assured, I will let you know the instant I hear anything promising."

Kirk nodded.

"Speaking of rest, Captain, perhaps you gentlemen would like to rest for a little while before the other guests arrive?" K-bec asked. "You'll each have your own sitting room to relax in, and there'll be jugs of water on hand in case you want to wash up before dinner..."

"And privacy, Captain...lots and lots of privacy," K-tel leaned close to whisper suggestively in Kirk's ear as she squeezed his arm.

Before Kirk could reply, he was startled by the sound of several ear-splitting honks coming from the rear of the house. "What the devil is that?" Kirk cried, his free hand clamped over one ear.

"Dinner," K-bec said matter-of-factly, then winked at Kirk. "Did I happen to mention that we were having goose? I hope that's not a problem..."

_TBC…_


	34. Chapter 34

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? NOOK DUNKS FEET SOFA

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**_The lobby of the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"No problem at all, Chief Minister," Kirk said, waving off any concern. "As long as its head and feet are cut off, and you throw it on the fire for at least a few minutes, I'm fine."

"Oh, rest assured, Captain, your goose will be cooked," K-bec grinned. "My chef refuses to serve anything raw - she even dunks heads of lettuce in a pot of boiling water before she uses them for salad."

Kirk laughed. "That seems a bit extreme."

"She claims it's because she's paranoid about germs, but I like to think she believes she won't get paid as much to be a cook if she doesn't cook absolutely everything in sight," K-bec replied with obvious amusement. "Perhaps I should go back to her kitchen nook to check on her progress. First Greeter K-tel can show you to your rooms - if that is agreeable, gentlemen?"

Kirk felt the soft squeeze of K-tel's fingers on his forearm and the gentle press of her breasts against his upper arm as she leaned even closer - and, suddenly, he could not think of a single thing that sounded more agreeable. He wondered if there was a nice large sofa in this sitting room that K-bec had mentioned - and whether it was sturdy enough for two...

_TBC…_


	35. Chapter 35

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? DITTY PERT RELAX

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**_The lobby of the Chief Minister's residence..._**

Spock watched K-tel grin as she pressed her ample bosom against Kirk's arm and whispered in his ear. Although his acute Vulcan senses didn't quite pick up what she'd said, judging from her past interactions with the Captain (and the sudden, glassy-eyed look that had come over Kirk's face), Spock was sure it had been something equally as pert and suggestive as anything she'd said before.

Spock was also sure that, despite the Chief Minister's recommendation, Kirk had very little intention of going to the offered sitting room to just 'relax'. Kirk had already had a nap today, after all. The First Officer just hoped that his Captain showed enough discretion to wait until he was actually inside the sitting room, with the door closed, before shucking his clothes and jumping all over the First Greeter.

As Spock considered Kirk's raging libido, he recalled an old Earth ditty that he had often heard his mother singing at home when she'd thought she was alone. He remembered the humiliated flush that had spread over her cheeks when he, at the tender age of two years, had walked in on his mother's singing and asked what a 'gigolo' was.

Spock was spared further recollections of his mother's embarrassment when he heard the telltale chirp of Kirk's communicator...

_TBC…_


	36. Chapter 36

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? TAPED WORSE HUGGED ROUGE

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**_The lobby of the Chief Minister's residence...  
_**  
"Excuse me," Kirk said, as he looked at K-tel. "I have to take this." She nodded with a rueful smile and hugged his arm one last time before releasing him.

Kirk stepped slightly away from the First Greeter and flipped his communicator on. "Kirk here."

_"McCoy here, Captain. I just finished the last of my tests, and I believe I've discovered what killed Ensign Jed-Ghar."_

"Excellent news there, Doctor. I'm with Chief Minister K-bec right now; I'm sure she is as eager as I am to hear your results." Kirk looked over at K-bec, who nodded solemnly.

_"Very well, Captain,"_ McCoy said. _"During the course of the autopsy, I found two foreign substances in Ensign Jed-Ghar's body, neither one of which by itself is fatal to humans. The one, that I already mentioned to you, was Klingon ipecac. The other, which I discovered later, is a variant of a psychotropic drug called 'hekim'."_

"Hekim?" Kirk queried.

_"It's a drug that makes its user extremely open to suggestion,"_ McCoy replied. _"It's very rare. Its production was banned on Hoya 6, the planet of its origin, and the plant from which it's made is not known to thrive on any other planet."_

"How the heck did this drug get into his system?" Kirk asked.

_"Unknown, Captain,"_ McCoy answered. _"I tested the residue from the wine bottle that Chief Minister K-bec was kind enough to provide and I found no trace of hekim at all - or any other foreign substance, for that matter. It is possible that the Ensign may have ingested the drug before ever beaming down to Jheniffur 8."_

"Why do you say that, Doctor? He collapsed right after drinking the wine - we all saw it!" Kirk argued.

_"It may be just a coincidence of timing, Captain. I say that because of the third substance involved."_

"Third substance?" Kirk asked. "I thought you said you found only two."

_"Only two _foreign_ ones,"_ McCoy corrected him. _"Neither of which is fatal to humans by itself, or in combination with the other. However, the presence of this third substance, a perfectly natural one for humans, made the interaction between the other two much worse - and, ultimately, fatal to the Ensign."_

"And what substance would that be?"

_"Testosterone, Captain - or, should I say, extremely high levels of testosterone. Under normal circumstances, I believe the Ensign's reaction to this chemical mix would have been dire, but probably not fatal. However, considering the _extremely_ stimulating company he was keeping at the time of his death..."_ McCoy trailed off.

Kirk glanced over at the Jheniffurian women and noted the flush on their cheeks, as if they had just been swiped with rouge.

"Understood, Doctor. Excellent work. You obviously went to a lot of effort - perhaps it's time for you to take a break now," Kirk suggested.

_"I may just do that, Captain,"_ McCoy replied. _"It's been so busy around here since that last battle with the Klingons that I haven't had the chance to get much sleep. In fact, if these tests had taken much longer, I swear I would have had to keep my eyelids taped open just to get the job done."_

Kirk chuckled. "Then don't let me keep you from your nap. I'll contact you if we need anything else. And thanks, Doctor. Kirk out."

Kirk closed his communicator and replaced it on his belt. Looking at his companions, he said, "Well, that's that. Now if we can only figure out how this 'hekim' got into the Ensign's body in the first place..."

_TBC…_


	37. Chapter 37

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? WILDS PEACE BREAST FIVE GUY

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**_Sickbay..._**

After speaking with Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy hit a button on the computer in his private office to close off his end of the communication. As he straightened up, he felt his muscles complaining about the stiff, unnatural posture he'd had to assume for hours while conducting his tests. McCoy was rolling his neck and shoulders around to loosen them up, and idly contemplating the feasibility of keeping a full-time masseuse on staff, when a loud wail from the main room shattered the peace of Sickbay.

Startled, McCoy twisted around to face his office door...his _open_ office door...that led directly to Sickbay's main room...where Leendel was still abed, and probably still awake...awake enough to have heard his entire conversation with the Captain…through the door that he had neglected to close in his haste to give the results of Ensign Jed-Ghar's autopsy. McCoy cursed his thoughtlessness and ran out of his office.

As he rushed up to Leendel's biobed, McCoy was struck by her look of horror as she sat up against the pillow. One hand clutched the medical gown at her breast, while the other hand was clamped over her mouth, holding in the screams. When Leendel spotted him, her eyes went wide and she began to tremble.

"You were wrong, Doc...you were wrong. I _did_ kill Proo; you said it yourself. The ipecac was there...I put it there...it killed him...therefore, _I_ killed him."

"You didn't know about the hekim," McCoy protested. "You weren't trying to kill him; it was an accident."

"It doesn't matter, Doc. It doesn't matter who or what else was involved. I'm responsible, too. If I'd just held onto my temper, and those five little teaspoons of ipecac that I put into the scrapple, Proo would be alive today. Deny _that_, if you can," Leendel said tightly.

McCoy looked down at the bedsheets, at a sudden loss for words in the face of her pain. Leendel noted his silence and shrank back into herself, crossing her arms over her chest and pulling her knees up until they touched her elbows. She turned her head to the side, seemingly to stare at the stars through the viewport, though her thoughts were actually light-years away.

"I can see it all now, Doc," Leendel said dully. "Kicked out of Starfleet, drummed out of the guilds back home - and without my guild affiliations, the only way I'll be able to make a living is as a short-order cook at some backwater dive in the wilds of Ceti Alpha 5."

"And all alone," she continued, the bleakness of her tone sending a chill down McCoy's spine. "I'll be all alone...and rightfully so. I mean, what guy would want me _now_, after what I've done..." Leendel's voice trailed off and she closed her eyes.

"You'd be surprised, Leendel," McCoy said softly as he placed a hand on her shoulder, startling her into looking up into his eyes. "You'd be surprised..."

_TBC…_


	38. Chapter 38

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? FRANK CROWNS WEPT BAKE

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**_The lobby of the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"Captain, concerning the hekim," Spock said. "I realize that we have yet to hear from Constable K-yoh, but it occurs to me that it would be prudent to begin a similar investigation aboard the Enterprise, in light of the Doctor's report."

"Yes, yes, of course, Mr. Spock," Kirk said distractedly, waving his hand in the First Officer's direction. "When we get back to the ship later, you can start setting that up."

"Captain, if I may be frank, I would prefer to return to the ship now and get started."

"What? And leave me here to slog through yet another official function all alone?" Kirk asked, feigning horror. At Spock's raised eyebrow, Kirk chuckled. "Spock, the ship's not going anywhere. The guilty party, if indeed one of our crew, will still be there in the morning."

"So, Mr. Spock," Chief Minister K-bec queried, "you will be in charge of the investigation on your ship? Is that a normal job for a First Officer?"

Kirk spoke up before Spock could reply. "Ah, Spock wears many hats aboard the Enterprise, just as a king may be required to wear many crowns during his reign."

"A king, eh?" K-bec teased. "Your Captain must think very highly of your abilities, Mr. Spock."

"In every area but the kitchen, Chief Minister," Kirk said. At K-bec's questioning look, he continued. "Spock can't bake to save his life."

"Captain..." Spock began to protest.

"I'm sorry, Spock, but you _can't_," Kirk shook his head at the Vulcan before turning back to face K-bec. "An example...several months ago, Spock got his mother to send him a bunch of recipes. It seems he was missing the taste of home and wanted to bring a little bit of it on board the Enterprise. So, one day, he made some Vulcan spice cookies and brought a plate along to a senior staff meeting to share his cooking with us."

"That sounds very sweet, Captain," K-bec said.

"Indeed. The thought was _very_ sweet, Chief Minister. Unfortunately, the cookies weren't. Not having everything on hand, Spock apparently improvised on some of the ingredients - including substituting a durian fruit from Earth for the much milder Vulcan fruit that was called for."

Kirk paused as a shudder ran through him. "Let's just say that the scent coming from that plate of cookies was rather pungent; I wept through the entire meeting. I couldn't even bring myself to try one of them - Mr. Scott was the only one of us brave enough to do that." Kirk chuckled. "In fact, I think his mouth finally unpuckered from that cookie just last week."

"Captain," Spock said solemnly, "if my cooking was so inadequate, why did no one say anything at the time?"

"I guess we didn't want to hurt your feelings, Spock."

"Feelings, Captain? I have no feelings to hurt - I have no ego to bruise," Spock denied.

_"Right, Spock,"_ Kirk thought skeptically, _"and I'm giving up women for Lent..."_

_TBC…_


	39. Chapter 39

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? BEYS ALLAY GNOME POKE

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**_The Chief Minister's residence..._**

"Speaking of cooking," K-bec said, smiling, "I believe I was about to go back and check on our chef's progress. Give her a poke in the ribs, if need be, to keep her on schedule for dinner. Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me? First Greeter K-tel will see you to your rooms."

The Chief Minister started to leave, but stopped mid-turn and looked at Kirk. "I was just thinking, Captain. Perhaps you and your First Officer would like a little refreshment to tide you over until the main event? While I'm back in the kitchen, I can have the chef send you each some bread and cheese - and maybe a bottle of wine from my private collection?"

Kirk tried to school his features to hide his surprise at the suggestion of the wine, but K-bec must have seen something in Kirk's expression, for she said, "I can certainly understand your hesitation, Captain. If the Doctor's report was not enough to allay your fears, please feel free to run your tricorders over the wine - or any of the food we serve you here tonight. Under the circumstances, we will not be offended."

"Thank you, Chief Minister. Your hospitality and understanding is much appreciated," Kirk replied.

K-bec bowed slightly and then turned to favor the First Greeter with a quick nod. "K-tel will take care of you, Captain. I will see you gentlemen at the dinner." The Chief Minister turned and walked away.

K-tel touched Kirk's arm briefly and said to the officers, "Captain, Mr. Spock, if you will follow me?"

K-tel led them down a corridor that branched off from the main lobby, until she reached a door at the far end. She opened the door and ushered Kirk inside.

Kirk stood in the center of the richly appointed room and looked around appreciatively. There was no sofa that he could see, but a mound of large pillows on the floor seemed to serve a similar function. There were a few low tables set around the room, brightly colored drapes, a few tapestries on the walls - the whole chamber had a definite Mediterranean feel to it, in Kirk's opinion. "Ah," he said grandly, "a room fit for one of the beys of Turkey!"

K-tel looked at him quizzically. "Turkey? I don't believe I've heard of that planet."

"It's not a planet, First Greeter," Kirk corrected her, smiling to take any possible sting out of his words. "It was a nation from old Earth, back before the Wars. The decor reminded me of pictures I've seen of it."

"Indeed, Captain. Perhaps you will tell me more about it later. Right now, if you will excuse me, I need to show your First Officer to his room," K-tel said, gesturing at Spock, who stood just inside the doorway. "I won't be long; his room's just across the corridor."

As K-tel and Spock left, a short squat male servant, who reminded Kirk of a garden gnome, entered the sitting room bearing a tray laden with small loaves of bread, a pot of soft cheese and a bottle of wine. He set the tray on a table next to the pile of pillows and bowed at Kirk before leaving.

A minute or two later, K-tel reentered the room and smiled at Kirk. "There, that didn't take too long, did it?"

"Oh, it felt like eons without you," Kirk said dramatically, then winked at her.

K-tel laughed, then looked at the tray of refreshments. "I see you've gotten your snack, Captain - but I also see that our dear chef is so distracted that she's neglected to send along glasses for the wine. We can't have you drinking right out of the bottle, can we?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Kirk grinned. "I recall many a night spent at Starfleet Academy doing that very thing."

"Even so, Captain," K-tel grinned back, "I'll just go and fetch a couple of glasses myself. And when I get back, we can...toast things..."

_TBC…_


	40. Chapter 40

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? FRAME YIELD ARGUE CAMP

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**_Sickbay...  
_**  
"Doc?" Leendel asked in a tremulous tone, her eyes wide as she looked into McCoy's face. Uncomfortable with his regard, she broke eye contact and dropped her gaze down to where his hand rested on her shoulder.

McCoy felt the muscles around his heart tighten up, even as his hand lightly squeezed Leendel's shoulder. "I'd ask you to call me 'Leonard', but I have a feeling that Starfleet would frown upon that - at least while you're here in Sickbay as my patient," McCoy said softly, with a hint of regret. "Those admirals are such sticklers for protocol; they might not yield on that point."

Leendel looked back up at McCoy and favored him with a watery grin. "What about later? Say, if I should get sent to that Federation prison camp in New Zealand, and you had come to see me on visitors' day - do you think they'd mind if I called you 'Leonard' then?"

"You won't get sent to prison."

"I might. And you know what? I think I'd be alright with that if..." Leendel trailed off and looked to the side.

"If what?" McCoy asked, squeezing her shoulder again in encouragement.

Leendel drew a deep breath and replied huskily, "If I knew that you would be there to see me on visitors' day." Leendel braved a glance back at McCoy's face and was warmed by his sudden smile.

"I'd be there," McCoy promised. "And, though I don't know what the admirals would say, _I_ certainly wouldn't argue if you wanted to use my name then. In fact, I'd insist on it."

Leendel started to cry - bittersweet, cleansing tears that ran down her cheeks and dripped onto the collar of her medical gown. McCoy lifted his hand from her shoulder to clasp one cheek and capture a few tears on his thumb. With that tender gesture, Leendel cried even harder - whereupon McCoy pulled her slender frame into his arms and began to rock her back and forth.

"It'll be alright, Leendel. I have a feeling everything will work out as it should...you'll see..."

_TBC…_


	41. Chapter 41

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? AWARDED MUFTI

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

After K-tel left to fetch the wine glasses, Kirk pulled his tricorder out from under his dress uniform jacket and scanned the tray of refreshments that the dwarfish male servant had brought. Loaves of bread..._(ping!) _Pot of cheese..._(ping!) _Bottle of Chateau Poutine 2121..._(ping!) _

Kirk turned the tricorder off and clipped it back onto his belt underneath his uniform jacket. Everything checked out - not a toxic foreign substance to be found, although he knew many folks back home would be tempted to classify the wine as such. He picked up the bottle and smiled as he examined its label.

Chateau Poutine had been a very small and very unconventional winery located just outside of the city of Montréal back on Earth. It was notorious among 'serious' wine aficionados for its novelty flavors and its disturbingly egalitarian approach to the promotion of winecraft in general, and of itself in particular. The winery had never been awarded any medals in international competition - not that it had ever minded. Instead, it had measured its success by the numbers of curious folks who had been introduced to the wonderful world of wine through its efforts.

The micro-winery, which had never had a large output to begin with, had gone out of business many years ago - with the result being that bottles of any vintage were now exceedingly rare. Some, who had not acquired the taste for the oddly flavored beverages, would say that that was a mercy. Kirk didn't happen to agree with them. He had fond, fuzzy memories of an evening, back in his Academy days, that had been spent with a bottle of Chateau Poutine and an especially willing female. He couldn't remember the woman's name, but ah! that Poutine had been sweet!

As Kirk leaned down to place the bottle back on the tray, he felt the stiff collar of his uniform jacket rub against his neck. He tugged at the collar and swiveled his head around to ease the chafing. Despite the looser fit of the new dress uniforms, no one in Starfleet had bothered to ease up on the starch in their collars. New or old style, Kirk was not a big fan of the dress uniforms - or of many of the occasions that required them. If he had to attend a special event, he'd prefer to wear his regular uniform or, better yet, some of the fine mufti he had hanging in the back of his closet.

Of course, Kirk mused as he eagerly awaited K-tel's return, for a 'really special' event, he'd prefer to wear absolutely nothing at all...

_TBC…  
_


	42. Chapter 42

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? QUIZ GREW CALMS TOOK HERE

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

A couple of minutes later, Kirk was still eagerly awaiting K-tel's return - and getting more 'eager' by the minute. To try to keep his mind off of his plans for the delectable diplomat, Kirk took the opportunity to review the song that he was planning to perform in the Enterprise's upcoming Talent Night - and he continued to regret his agreement to participate in the event.

He had managed to avoid being drafted into previous Talent Nights - but this time, when Spock had approached him a few days ago while signing up participants, the Vulcan had refused to take "no" for an answer. Kirk had put up objection after objection, but Spock had just looked at him and stated that it was logical to assume that crew morale, which was low after all the recent conflicts with the Klingons, would be greatly improved if the crew were to see the Captain 'let loose' up on stage.

Kirk paced about the room, absorbed in his tune, and so did not hear the approaching footsteps as he began to sing, "With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal..."

"Here I am, Captain!" K-tel broke into his singing as she entered the room, carrying two wine glasses. She stopped short, then grew very quiet as she realized what Kirk had been doing.

A red-faced Kirk hastened to explain. "The singing calms my nerves, especially when I get...er, over-excited...and I've never done it before...I mean, not in front of an audience...um...well...uh..." he stumbled to a stop. He paused a beat or two, then asked, "Say, do you know who wrote that song?"

"What is this, Captain...a quiz?" K-tel teased, amused at Kirk's discomfort. "I stopped taking those when I left school. Do I get a prize if I answer correctly?"

"Well, that depends. What do you want?" Kirk asked.

"Oh, Captain, if you only knew..." she trailed off suggestively.

"I think I can guess," Kirk said with a grin.

"Perhaps," K-tel said, stepping closer and pressing one of the glasses into his hands. "But for now, I'll settle for some wine..."

_TBC…_


	43. Chapter 43

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? TILTS COIL BECK VIEW

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

Shifting the glass to one hand, Kirk used his free hand to reach up and coil a strand of K-tel's hair around his index finger. "Settle?" he murmured. "A beautiful woman like you shouldn't have to settle."

K-tel's laugh caused Kirk's stomach muscles to tighten up in anticipation. "You intoxicate me," he said, leaning even closer to her. "I feel like I'm on an amusement park ride, as it tilts and whirls and spins me around - and that's been since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Tell me you don't feel the same way."

"I feel..." K-tel said, smiling, "that some wine would probably be a good idea right about now." She stepped back, forcing Kirk to release her hair, and turned to walk over to the refreshment tray.

Kirk sighed inwardly, but was careful not to let his frustration show on his face. _"Let her play her coy little game,"_ he thought. _"We both know where this is going to end up, after all."_

Instead, Kirk raised his hand that was holding the wine glass and noticed something on the crystal. He lifted the glass up to one of the candles that lit the room, in order to get a better view of it. "You need to fire your cleaning staff," Kirk laughed and turned his head to face K-tel across the room. "They left a few spots on these glasses."

K-tel looked surprised. She turned away from him to lift her own glass to a nearby candle. "Hmmm, so there is," she muttered, then turned back to Kirk. "I shall definitely have to speak to the dishwasher about this - but in the meantime, you're not put off by a few tiny little spots, are you, Captain?" she asked brightly.

"Absolutely not," Kirk replied. "Bring on the wine - and please, call me 'James'."

"'James'?"

"As opposed to 'Captain'," Kirk clarified. "'Captain' is too formal for this occasion, don't you think? My first name's James. Or, better yet, call me 'Jim'. Use 'Jim' and I'll be at your beck and call," he promised.

"Will you now?" K-tel smiled. "We'll just see about that...'Jim'..."

_TBC…_


	44. Chapter 44

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? HERB PAVES CREAK SOURED

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**_Spock's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

A couple of minutes after First Greeter K-tel had shown him to his private sitting room, Spock heard a tapping at his door. He opened the door to the sight of the same dwarfish servant that he had seen bringing refreshments to Kirk's room. The servant was holding a similar tray, and Spock opened the door wider and stepped aside to let him pass.

As the servant was setting the tray down on a table near Spock's own pile of pillows, Spock looked out into the corridor and saw K-tel approach with two glasses. She paused before the door of Kirk's room and inspected the glasses, then opened the door and entered. As she entered, Spock heard the sound of the Captain singing a little Gilbert and Sullivan, which caused him to lift one of his eyebrows in bemusement. Apparently, despite all his protestations, the Captain had not completely soured on the idea of his participation in Talent Night.

The creak of a floorboard shook Spock out of his thoughts and reminded him that he was not alone in the sitting room. He turned and saw the servant standing and holding a bottle. "Sir, would you like a glass of wine?" the male asked in a gravelly voice. "It's one of our best local vintages."

"Perhaps later," Spock replied.

"Anything else I can get for you then, sir?"

"No, thank you. That will be all."

The servant bowed. "If there's anything you need, sir, you just pull on that rope hanging next to the door there," he said, nodding in that direction, "and someone will be right up from the kitchen." Then he turned and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

After Spock took his tricorder and did a cursory pass over the refreshments to verify that they were safe, he placed the instrument back underneath his uniform and picked up the pot of cheese from the tray. He lifted the lid and sniffed, detecting the presence of some herb, probably a local variant of dill.

As Spock debated whether to try some of the cheese with the bread, or skip the snack entirely in favor of some meditation before dinner, he was reminded of a Vulcan proverb that his father had often quoted when calling young Spock away from his studies to come down to dinner: _"A full stomach paves the way to an open mind..."_

_TBC…_


	45. Chapter 45

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? COOT GLEN MEET FEUD

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

K-tel picked up the wine bottle and poured some of its dark liquid contents into her glass. She then pointed the neck of the bottle invitingly towards Kirk. "Jim?"

Kirk stepped over to stand next to her and held out his own glass, staring at the bottle and shaking his head as she poured. "It's incredible. To find a bottle of Chateau Poutine anywhere anymore - and to find one all the way out _here_..."

"It's the only one the Chief Minister has, as I understand it," K-tel said. "It was given to her some time ago, and she was saving it for a very special occasion. I guess this is it."

"Oh, but I can't. Not if it's her only bottle," Kirk protested.

"She really wanted you to have this, Captain. Perhaps she thought you'd appreciate a taste of home, but if you don't like it..." K-tel trailed off.

Kirk chuckled. "Love the stuff, actually. I haven't had any since I was at the Academy, where I was probably one of the few, cadets and professors alike, who could even stand it - much less enjoy it. In fact, it was the topic of this running feud - well, more of an argument, really - I had going with the professor of my Advanced Tactics class. He would claim that it was merely a bourgeois beverage that appealed to the lowest common denominator, and I would tell him that he was merely an elitist old coot who wouldn't appeal to anybody. Well, actually, I didn't tell him that last bit until after my final grades were already posted."

K-tel laughed. "Sounds like someone I'd like to meet," she said with a hint of irony.

"Oh yeah, he was a real prince." Kirk rolled his eyes.

"I've never heard of a man so aggressive in the defense of his wine," K-tel commented. "Does it hold some special meaning for you?"

"Aside from basic nostalgia?" Kirk asked. "Well, there _was_ this one time. It was the night before my Kobayashi Maru test, and I remember pacing and being too keyed up to relax, not sure if all my preparations would work out. So I grabbed a bottle of Chateau - I forget the year- and headed to this secluded little glen several miles north of the Academy grounds with a girl I was seeing at the time."

"What was her name?" K-tel asked.

Kirk shrugged sheepishly. "You know? I don't remember. There were a few girls I dated around the same time; I don't recall which one went with me."

"What a pity," K-tel said mournfully. "I do hope you'll remember _me_ after this is over."

"I don't think I'll be able to forget you," Kirk said, then added regretfully, "I _do_ wish I remembered who she was, though. That was one hell of a night we had up there in the woods. I wonder whatever happened to her?"

"Perhaps you'll find out some day," K-tel replied. She put the bottle back down on the tray, then raised her wine glass to Kirk. "Cheers, Jim..."

_TBC…_


	46. Chapter 46

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? SLOWED GEEK PRION HONEY

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

Kirk clinked his glass against K-tel's and gazed at her with lust-filled eyes. "Here's to us, and to an evening we'll never forget," he said in a voice as smooth as warm honey.

K-tel merely smiled at him and sipped from her glass. Kirk drank from his own glass and closed his eyes in pleasure as the tang of the wine tickled his taste buds. "Ahh, it's perfect!" he proclaimed.

"It's something, alright," K-tel responded uncertainly. Kirk opened his eyes at her odd tone and restrained a laugh at the grimace on her face.

"Yeah, it's strong. The flavoring takes some getting used to," he said as he took another drink.

"Pardon my metaphor," K-tel said apologetically, "but I'm afraid it's not quite my cup of tea."

"Try another sip," Kirk encouraged her as he took a step closer to her and patted her arm with his free hand. "Humor me? If you still don't like it after that, I won't bother you about it again."

"Very well," K-tel sighed, and Kirk felt her muscles tense under his hand as she prepared to take another sip. She shuddered as she swallowed, then shook her head. "Sorry. I think I'll stick to our local vintages."

"It's okay. That just means more for me," Kirk grinned as he quickly downed the rest of the wine in his glass, then grabbed K-tel's glass and finished that off as well.

Kirk's grin grew even wider as he noticed K-tel's look of distaste, but the grin quickly faded when she licked a stray drop of wine from the corner of her mouth. Passion welled up in him, and his breathing slowed even as his heart raced like a hummingbird's. The flick of her tongue had him staring at it with all the lustful intensity of a sideshow geek eyeing up his next chicken.

Kirk stepped closer, drawn in by his overwhelming attraction to her, until the two of them were standing almost chest to breast. He would have come even closer than that, but K-tel had halted him with a hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.

"Not just yet, Jim," she said, shaking her head, then looking directly into his eyes in apparent concern. "Are you okay? That was strong stuff, and you did have two glasses of it."

"One and a half, but who's counting?" Kirk leaned towards her. "Okay, two," he relented, "but I'm fine. I can handle my liquor, no problem. I could drink Marion Ravenwood under the table and never bat an eye."

"Still, I think you might be a little drunk right now, and you would be much better off going over there and resting on the pillows." K-tel pushed at Kirk's shoulder to gently steer him in that direction.

The last thing that Kirk wanted to do, in his passion-addled state, was to leave K-tel's side, but he found himself stumbling over to the pile of pillows and plopping down on them with all the finesse of a cow with a prion disease. "I guess you were right," Kirk said ruefully. "Apparently I can't handle my liquor tonight. Sorry. I'd say this puts a definite crimp in our...plans for this evening."

"Au contraire, mon Capitaine," K-tel contradicted with a smile. "My plans for us remain unchanged..."

_TBC…_


	47. Chapter 47

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? NUDGED LINK BOOB RIGS FLINT OVER

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"You know, Jim," K-tel said regretfully as she straightened the now-empty wine glasses on the tray, "it really _is_ a pity that you didn't remember that girl's name from the Academy. It might have made all of this unnecessary - although, now having met you, I'm beginning to think that all of this was inevitable."

"What are you talking about? I don't understand," Kirk said.

"No, of course you don't. But don't worry, I'll explain it to you - and in words I'm sure even a boob like you will be able to understand," K-tel said in a suddenly condescending tone. She looked over at Kirk with an expression that had turned as hard as flint.

"What's the problem? What's going on here?!" Kirk asked, with a growing sense of unease.

"The problem, Captain?" K-tel replied. "You're a menace to womanhood across the quadrant. Your lovelife is a disgrace; each woman you hook up with is just another anonymous link in a long, long chain. And as for what's going on? Well, somebody has finally decided to do something about that."

Alarmed, Kirk started to get to his feet. "Oh no, Captain," K-tel advised him. "You aren't going anywhere yet. Sit down." Kirk's legs folded underneath him and he plopped back down on the pillows.

K-tel then noticed that Kirk's hands were starting to reach under his jacket for his communicator. "And you can forget about calling the ship or your First Officer, Captain. Go ahead and toss that communicator over here - the same goes for your phaser and your tricorder. Toss them all over here. You won't be needing them for awhile."

Kirk obediently tossed the requested items over, then shook his head as if coming out of a trance. He looked at the First Greeter suspiciously. "Why did I just do that? Why did I give you my communicator and my only weapon?"

K-tel gave him a brief, humorless smile as she nudged Kirk's belongings further away with her foot. "It could be just because I told you to really nicely - or it _could_ be because I told you to really nicely with the help of a little herbal supplement."

"Herbal supplement?!"

"Hekim, Captain. If you scanned yourself with your tricorder now, you'd find trace amounts of it in your system. Not a lot, but then this doesn't really take a lot."

"How...did that...how did you do...?" Kirk stammered.

"How does any woman slip a Mickey to the man she's with? She rigs his drink."

"The wine?!" Kirk exclaimed incredulously. "That's impossible - I checked the wine with my tricorder when you left the room."

"Of course, Captain," K-tel smiled slyly. "But did you check it when I got _back_?..."

_TBC…_


	48. Chapter 48

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? ADULT FADED TONS BRIS BATH

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"Why should I have checked the wine _then_?" Kirk asked. "You didn't do anything to it. I know; I was watching you the whole time."

"Yes, but I hardly came back to the room empty-handed, did I?"

"All you brought back were the glasses..." Kirk's voice faded to silence as he digested that fact. "The glasses?"

K-tel nodded. "The glasses. Or, should I say, _your_ glass?"

"The spots," Kirk said with sudden understanding. "They weren't from soap scum, were they?"

"Of course not," K-tel confirmed. "Your glass was given a nice bath in a solution of hekim - then the outside was wiped off while the inside was allowed to dry naturally. What's left on the glass is easily enough to dose up a normal healthy adult male once the wine or other liquid is added. A handy little delivery system, with no ill effects for the subject involved."

"No ill effects?!" Kirk exclaimed angrily. "Tell that to Ensign Jed-Ghar! That's what you did to him, isn't it? You dosed his glass!"

"We truly regret what happened to your crewman," K-tel said somberly, "but his death can hardly be considered our fault. I did say a normal and healthy male - but with that ipecac floating around in his system, which we were certainly unaware of, he could hardly have been considered either, could he?"

K-tel paused to add, "If it means anything, we weren't targeting _him_; we were always after _you_. _You_ were supposed to get that glass; if the Doctor or Mr. Spock had gotten it, nothing would have happened to them. Ideally, nothing would have happened to your Ensign either - he was just unlucky. I'm sorry."

"Oh, I'm sure your obvious heartfelt apology will mean tons to his family when I relay the news!" Kirk snapped sarcastically. "You've caused an innocent man's death!"

"Yes, we made a mistake," K-tel replied calmly, "and we will each atone for it in our own way. But _you_, Captain - you are hardly an innocent man, and we've got your own atonement to consider."

"Atonement? I've done nothing wrong!" Kirk protested.

"I know some women who would say differently," K-tel smirked.

"Well, bring 'em on, then!" Kirk challenged. "What are you going to do, after all - kill me? That would look real good so soon after Ensign Jed-Ghar's death. I'll bet your tourist trade would dry up like a prune if that happened."

"I'm touched by your concern, Captain," K-tel said. "No, we don't plan to kill you - and as far as anyone else will know, nothing will have happened to you. Much as you might deserve it, we won't be castrating you either, or even blessing you with a bris...although, after we're through with you, you might wish that we had..."

_TBC…_


	49. Chapter 49

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? CENTS MEND FALL ZING

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"This is outrageous!" Kirk blustered, masking his twinge of fear at K-tel's words with an outward show of fury. "And Chief Minister K-bec will be appalled when she discovers what you've done!"

K-tel smiled condescendingly as she patted Kirk on the head. "Dear Captain, what makes you think she doesn't already know?"

Kirk's jaw slackened as he absorbed the implication of K-tel's question.

"I did say '_we_', Captain. Surely you didn't think I was in this alone, did you? This is _her_ house, after all," K-tel said, "and it was _her_ invitation that brought you here. Do you think it was an accident that you arrived here so much earlier than the other guests?"

"What? Cat got your tongue, Captain?" K-tel taunted when Kirk remained silent. "Not going to put in your two cents' worth? Not going to zing me with yet another example of your witty, hormone-soaked repartee?"

Kirk's mind was awhirl with many questions - so many that they crowded each other out on their way to his tongue, rendering him temporarily speechless. When he was finally able to draw a couple of them out of the tempest, he asked, "How did you get the hekim? How did you even _hear_ of it? According to the Doctor, it's not only illegal - it's very rare."

"We have a very dear friend, a native of Hoya 6, who introduced us to this wonderful drug when we helped her with a little problem a while back. We quickly saw the benefits of having this substance around, and we engaged her services to procure a steady supply." K-tel paused, then added, "You've met her, actually. A couple of times."

"Oh, _have_ I? And where is she now?" Kirk gestured with his hand around the room.

"Right now, I'd say she's up on the Enterprise, getting acquainted with some of your crew."

"Impossible!" Kirk snapped. "My crew would not have beamed anyone up without my authorization."

"But she _had_ your authorization, Captain. In fact, she beamed up right in front of your eyes."

"Nonsense! I think I'd remember beaming someone from this planet up to my ship."

"Oh dear," K-tel mocked. "Yet another female you've conveniently forgotten, Captain. Isis will be so disappointed that she didn't make more of an impression on you this time either."

"Isis? _The cat_? _She's_ your dealer?!" Kirk asked incredulously.

"Yes, Isis," K-tel confirmed. "She's not really a cat; that's just one of the shapes she likes to amuse herself with when she travels amongst humans. Of course, she hasn't felt much like associating with humans recently - not since Gary."

"Gary?"

"Gary Seven? You _do_ remember him, don't you?"

Images popped into Kirk's head of the tall, harshly-featured human agent he had met a couple of years ago, during a mission that had seen him time-travel to old Earth during its early space race. Later in the mission, they had enlisted the help of a young Earth woman - but, Kirk recalled, Gary Seven had not exactly been alone when he first met the agent. Gary had been travelling with a small black cat named...

"_Isis_," Kirk breathed. "She was travelling with him."

"Indeed. She actually left Hoya 6 for him," K-tel said, then began to run her fingers idly through Kirk's hair. "You know how it is when you fall for a guy. A few sweet nothings whispered in your ear, a few promises of devotion and you're ready to leave hearth and home for him. And then, when his eyes stray and he forsakes you for another - like that little Earth trollop Roberta - you feel like your broken heart will never mend."

"At this point, you have two options: you can either let him get away with it, or you can make him pay," K-tel said harshly, tugging on Kirk's hair hard enough to make him wince. "She decided to make him pay..."

_TBC…_


	50. Chapter 50

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? EASE WARM THUD JIGS ROOT

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**_Spock's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence...  
_**  
Spock had decided to heed his father's quoted wisdom and sample at least some of the refreshments that the Chief Minister had had sent to him. He knelt down next to the table and picked up one of the small loaves of bread. It was warm and obviously fresh from the oven. He tore a small piece from the loaf and dipped it into the pot of 'dill' cheese. He popped the morsel into his mouth and chewed, sitting back on his heels as he analyzed the taste.

It wasn't bad at all, he concluded. It wouldn't have made any of his Irish great-great-great ancestors do any jigs, but they would have happily added it to their basic potatoes-and-cabbage diet - if only for the variety it provided.

As Spock continued to nibble on the bread and cheese, he started to go over the facts of the whole Jheniffurian incident in his mind. Something about the situation had him ill at ease; no doubt some niggling little detail that he had overlooked was trying to make itself known to him, and was preventing him from fully relaxing. Perhaps by reviewing the details of the day's events, he would discover the root of his discomfort.

Several minutes of introspection later, Spock was no closer to any of the answers he sought. Giving up for the moment, he rose back up on his knees and looked down at the scattered crumbs on the tray, the half-empty pot of cheese and the untouched bottle of wine. Perhaps he would summon someone from the kitchen to remove the tray - and perhaps that person would be able to tell him whether any of the other dinner guests had yet arrived.

Spock stood up and walked over to the door, prepared to pull on the rope that the male servant had shown to him, until his acute Vulcan hearing picked up a noise from the corridor. He opened his door and scanned the hall with his eyes. Finding nothing, Spock prepared to withdraw into his sitting room when a soft thud from the other side of Kirk's door caused his head to whip around.

When no further sound came, Spock wondered whether he should check on the Captain - then considered that since the Captain was in his room alone with the First Greeter, and had obviously been so hot for her, he would probably not appreciate the interruption. The noise he'd heard was most likely part of some highly emotional mating ritual that Spock would just as soon avoid.

Spock shook his head slightly at that thought and began to slowly step back into his room...

_TBC…_


	51. Chapter 51

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? VAPOR KITES RAGAS TIPI

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"She made him pay, in much the same way that you will pay, Captain," K-tel promised as she tugged on Kirk's hair again. "But, I'm getting ahead of myself. It's not time for that yet."

Kirk reared his head back from the painful tugging, and the sudden motion caused him to lose his balance. He fell into the table, knocking it over and sending the refreshment tray and its contents onto the floor. As he struggled to sit up, Kirk spotted his communicator lying nearby and made a clumsy grab for it.

"Oh no, Captain. It's not time for that either," K-tel said as she kicked the communicator out of reach, sending it flying across the room to bounce noisily off the door to the corridor. "Now sit back down on the pillows like a good boy while I straighten up your mess."

As she righted the table and picked up the tray and its contents from the floor, K-tel said, "Not that I blame you for trying, Captain; you wouldn't be _you_ if you didn't try. In a little while, however, the hekim will have taken complete effect and we'll be able to get down to work without having to worry about being interrupted by any more of these embarrassing little attempts."

Then K-tel picked up Kirk's phaser and tricorder from the floor, walked over to pick up the communicator - and placed all three items on a table by the door. "For safekeeping," she said, "until you're ready to leave."

"Oh, so you're going to let me leave?" Kirk asked skeptically. "What makes you think you're going to get away with all of this once I've told everyone what's gone on here?"

"Because you won't be telling anyone anything."

"You sound very confident," Kirk sneered. "Just how do you intend to keep me quiet?"

"You'll find out soon enough, Captain," K-tel replied.

Kirk watched as K-tel stepped over to a tapestry on the other side of the door. The tapestry depicted a lively, if rather odd, scene. Two Jheniffurian males were in the foreground, standing by a structure that resembled a tipi. The males were idly flying kites while several women could be seen in the background, toiling in the fields.

K-tel noted Kirk's inspection of the tapestry. "Ancient history, dear Captain," she smirked. "It may surprise you to know that before our current time of enlightenment, we Jheniffurian women were actually the powerless ones, forced to perform the menial tasks while our male oppressors did nothing but live off of our labors."

"And in grabbing the power, _you've_ become the oppressors?!" Kirk challenged. "How does that make you any better than _them_?"

"Because we women did not grab the power, Captain," K-tel replied. "We were forced to take it up after our males nearly wiped themselves out with war after war after pointless war. Had we not done so, our civilization would surely have collapsed - all thanks to their idiocy. They learned their lesson well. How well, I wonder, will you learn yours?"

K-tel flipped aside the edge of the tapestry to reveal a keypad on the wall. She tapped one of the buttons, and a haunting melody filled the room. It reminded Kirk of one of the tunes he'd heard in the music composition class he'd taken at the Academy. That semester, he and his fellow cadets had studied everything from the ragas of India to the unusual subsonic works of the natives of Vee-Aitch 1, who spent most of their lives as clouds of blue vapor.

K-tel let the tapestry fall back into place and turned to face Kirk. "I hope you don't mind," K-tel said insincerely. "I just like to hear a little music in the background when I get down to work..."

_TBC…_


	52. Chapter 52

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? SCENT LOVER TOWNS CARP

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"You know," Kirk said, "you still haven't told me why you're doing this...this...whatever it is that you're doing. Not really. Oh, I've listened to you carp for the last few minutes about how I'm this 'menace to womanhood' and all, implying not so subtly that I probably have an abandoned lover in each and every one of the many towns across this quadrant - but you haven't told me why you've taken this action against me. Why you? Why the Chief Minister? Why the damn cat?! I've done nothing to any of you; I've never even been to this planet before. Or is this all on general principle - 'men bad' - and I just happened to be convenient?"

K-tel smiled mirthlessly as she walked back over to the pile of pillows. "No, you should be flattered, Captain. This was set up just for you."

"Lucky me," Kirk muttered.

"And when I said that _somebody_ had finally decided to do something about you," K-tel continued, "I didn't mean to imply that it was any of us here on the planet. No, we're just doing a favor for a friend...a very good friend."

"_Who?_ Who is she then, for I've no doubt it's a woman!" Kirk snapped. "Produce her or be damned - I demand to know who my 'accuser' is!"

"Demand?" K-tel asked condescendingly, looking down at Kirk as he sat helplessly on the pillows. "I think you're hardly in a position to be demanding _anything_. Besides, you already know who your accuser is."

"I do?" Kirk asked skeptically.

"Of course," K-tel replied. "And if you'd thought with your proper brain instead of with the 'little Captain', you'd have had this figured out by now - or at least you'd have been suspicious. Although, if you'd thought with the proper brain in the first place, you could have avoided this whole situation."

At Kirk's puzzled look, K-tel patted him on the head and leaned forward, the subtle scent of her perfume filling up his nostrils. "Think about it, Captain. How did you get here?"

"In my ship. Surely you're not saying that my ship...?"

"Don't be dense, Captain," K-tel scolded. "How did you get here to Jheniffur 8? You were _sent_ here. And _who_ sent you here...?" she prompted, then waited for Kirk's reaction.

Kirk's eyes went wide and he shook his head. "No, that's...that's impossible...you're saying that...that," he paused then continued in a disbelieving whisper, "_Admiral Morrisville?!_..."

_TBC…_


	53. Chapter 53

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? FAVA KEPT AGUE HIKER TWIN

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

K-tel said nothing, but her sly smile seemed to confirm Kirk's suspicions.

"That can't be right," he denied, shaking his head. "Are you sure we're talking about the same person?"

"Absolutely," K-tel confirmed. "Unless Admiral Morrisville has an identical twin that nobody knows about, _she_ was the one who made the initial arrangements with us during her visit last year. Not that that's why she was here in the first place. Oh no, it was a regular diplomatic visit, but we all got along so famously that once the official talks were over, the conversation drifted into more personal areas.

"Of course, when the topic of men and women came up, your name was mentioned quite frequently - and not in a good way," K-tel said, patting Kirk lightly on the shoulder. "What is it you humans say about a woman scorned? Well, whatever it is, Admiral Morrisville has kept that grudge going against you for a long time. When she met Isis and learned how we had been able to help _her_ out, the Admiral was quite interested in enlisting our aid as well. All that was needed was the right opportunity."

"Which was the prospect of shore leave on a beautiful planet," Kirk said. "How handy for the Admiral that the Klingons cooperated with her by drawing us near this region of space to begin with."

"Well, it _was_ convenient," K-tel stated, "but she was prepared to wait longer for her vengeance, if necessary. She was that determined."

"I still can't believe it. I've done _nothing_ to Admiral Morrisville!" Kirk protested.

"True, you did nothing while she's been Admiral, but plenty when she was Captain."

"What?! I defy you to name one!" Kirk said confidently.

K-tel smirked. "Would you like to make that one before or after you enlisted her help in defeating the Kobayashi Maru exercise?"

K-tel saw the change in Kirk's expression as he thought back to that time. "Do you recall, Captain, how you cozied up to a certain instructor beforehand?" she asked. "You played upon her attraction to you. No doubt you figured that if you dazzled her with your time and attention, spent a few romantic dinners with her over fava beans and a nice white zinfandel, she'd be so in love with you that she'd willingly tell you how to trick the computer - how to finagle a win out of that no-win scenario. And it worked. She fell for you and she gave you that information, risking her own career while helping yours."

"Remember that incredible night in the glen before your test?" K-tel asked. "The girl whose name you couldn't remember? It was LaSue. She wasn't a hiker or camper by any means, but she willingly trekked up there with you because you wanted her support and any last minute tips. The Chateau Poutine? She hated it, but she drank it because you liked it."

"And what did she get for her help and loving support? Well, for starters, she got a chill and ended up in Starfleet Medical for a couple of days with a touch of ague from that night in the woods. And did you come to see her once?" K-tel asked harshly, poking Kirk in the chest. "No, you were too busy after your triumph, sucking up the accolades and relishing the advances of luscious female cadets. You didn't have time to visit, didn't have time to return her com messages - you didn't even have time to acknowledge her existence, much less the invaluable aid she'd given you."

"You are a _dog_!" K-tel exclaimed, poking Kirk even harder in the chest. "Tell me, Captain - what would _you_ do with a dog such as yourself?..."

_TBC…_


	54. Chapter 54

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? LOVE BAIT ZEAL CODEX LUCKS

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**_Sickbay..._**

"...What would you do with a Doc such as yourself?"

"Huh? What?" McCoy's head snapped up suddenly, startled by the voice close to his ear. The Doctor turned his head and looked up to see Nurse Chapel grinning mischievously.

"Oh, did I wake you?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"No, of course not," McCoy denied, red-faced and stumbling for words. "I was just...just, um...well, she's...I just gave her another sedative and wanted to be sure it had taken effect before I left."

"Uh-huh," Chapel said, unconvinced. "And tell me, Doctor, how does holding the patient's hand ensure that the sedative has taken effect?"

She barely restrained a laugh at the embarrassed expression that crossed McCoy's face as he looked down and saw that he still had Leendel's hand firmly in his grasp. To Chapel's surprise, he didn't let go of her hand. Instead, he brought his other hand up to hold hers between his own. He sighed and looked back up at Chapel. "Nurse, please...you won't...?"

"I won't tell," Chapel promised soberly. "I won't even tease. You'd be too easy to bait now, anyway."

McCoy nodded and turned back to Leendel's sleeping form.

"You really do love her, don't you?" Chapel asked softly.

"I don't know," McCoy admitted. "I know I care for her...a lot. I know that's part of the reason I pursued my tests with such zeal. She was so convinced that she was guilty, and I was so determined to prove that she was wrong." McCoy sighed again. "It looks like we were both wrong."

After a long silence, Chapel asked, "So, what happens now?"

"Well, an inquiry certainly," McCoy replied. "Probably a court-martial. Likely a discharge, or even prison. She's convinced it's going to be prison."

"No, I meant with the two of you," Chapel clarified. "What happens now?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "I do care about her, and I'll certainly support her through this as a friend. I'm just afraid of taking advantage of her, of the situation. She's taken this whole thing with Ensign Jed-Ghar rather hard; emotions are running very high and she's extremely vulnerable. I wouldn't want to do something rash and end up hurting her."

"Or being hurt _by_ her," Chapel added sagely.

"Or that," McCoy agreed.

Another long silence filled the room as each of them wondered what to say next.

Nurse Chapel finally broke into the quiet. "You know, my father loved books. He loved going to this museum in old Washington, DC - to where they keep the former Library of Congress and National Archives - and strolling past the displays of old books. He said you could never tell what ancient wisdom you would pick up there. There was this one passage he was fond of, that he'd read in a codex of ancient proverbs, that I think you might appreciate."

Chapel placed a hand on McCoy's shoulder in support as she quoted, "'The man who lucks into love knows himself blessed - for it is hard to find and easily missed'..."

_TBC…_


	55. Chapter 55

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? PIGGY ANEMONE CHART GUCK

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"You have missed - or, should I say, squandered - every opportunity you've had to find real, true, everlasting love," K-tel said softly, clucking her disapproval. "And, Admiral Morrisville's case aside, the opportunities _have_ been there, Captain. If I were to draw up a chart right now, of all of the women you've been with who could have been perfect for you, it would stretch from here to Romulus.

"Believe it or not, Captain, we're about to do you a huge favor."

"Forgive me if I doubt that your motives are entirely altruistic," Kirk retorted.

"Oh, that's okay, I forgive you - for _that_, at least." K-tel flashed him an ironic smile. "Would you care to finish off the wine?" she continued nonchalantly, stepping back to the table. "Don't worry, I won't think you're piggy or anything like that. It's just that some of it managed to stay in the bottle when you knocked the table over, and it seems a shame to waste it - especially after all the care the Admiral took to get it here for you."

"I thought this was from the Chief Minister's collection," Kirk said.

"Chief Minister K-bec was merely holding it in trust for you after the Admiral had it sent here. As you can imagine, Chateau Poutine has a special significance for the two of you - the Admiral felt it only appropriate that an instrument of her pain would also serve as the instrument of her vengeance." K-tel paused, then added, "Plus, none of our native wines would have been strong enough to mask the taste of the hekim."

Kirk recalled the fleeting, less-than-enthusiastic look he had glimpsed on Ensign Jed-Ghar's face after that toast in the council chamber - as if the Ensign had just stepped in a big smelly pile of something and was trying to scrape the guck off the bottom of his shoe. _"If only we had known what was really going on then,"_ Kirk thought.

As he mentally reviewed the toast, Kirk shifted his position on the pillows. He had been sitting back on his calves for several minutes, and his lower legs had gone numb. As he carefully moved them out in front of his body, the sudden return of sensation to the limbs felt like the many angry stings of a sea anemone. He couldn't prevent a grimace and a pained intake of breath at the agony that swamped him.

"Yes, that's a good idea, Captain," K-tel said as she smirked at his discomfort. "Best to get into a more comfortable position before we get started. This is going to take a while."

"_What_ is going to take a while?" Kirk asked demandingly. "What exactly are you going to do to me?"

"_For_ you, Captain," K-tel corrected. "_For_ you." She smiled and spread her hands wide. "Why, we're going to help you find true love..."

_TBC…_


	56. Chapter 56

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? BOTH BEGAT FEAR DRINK

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"True love?!" Kirk laughed. "You've got to be kidding! Are you sure you haven't had too much to drink?"

K-tel shook her head. "I assure you, Captain, I am both completely sober and completely serious."

"You're going to help me find true love?" Kirk asked skeptically. "And just how do you propose to do that?"

"You see, Captain," K-tel explained, seeming to ignore to Kirk's question, "you're so completely obsessed by sex that you can't think beyond the prospect of your next conquest. There's no doubt that you're a great captain, and I'm sure you could be a great man if you tried - but you don't try. Instead, you hop from female to female like a rabbit in heat - and you end up hurting a lot of caring, wonderful women in the process." K-tel shook her head again and let out a heavy sigh. "We're going to change all that," she promised, "...permanently."

K-tel's words begat a creeping fear deep within his soul and Kirk found himself unconsciously crossing his legs as he wondered what such a change would entail...

_TBC…_


	57. Chapter 57

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? PLUMBS CARGO GALA CLOAK

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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**_Kirk's sitting room in the Chief Minister's residence..._**

"And to think, all of this started with a cat," K-tel said, making a sweeping gesture around the room. "What a fortunate circumstance that first brought Isis to Jheniffur 8, though it certainly didn't seem that way to her at the time.

"You see, Captain, your Gary Seven had a roving eye, much like yourself," K-tel explained. "Having forsaken Isis for that secretary back on old Earth, all it took was a change of assignment for Gary to drop the secretary herself and latch onto the next available babe. He was actually between assignments, and between women, when he came here to our little hospitality planet for some fun with our more buxom 'attractions' - with seemingly faithful Isis right beside him.

"Being rather astute women, we quickly saw through the cloak of her feline form to the angry, heartsick woman inside. Being Jheniffurian women, we were completely able to sympathize with her predicament, and to offer her a rather...unorthodox solution."

"By the time we met her, Isis was fed up with Gary and all she wanted was revenge. She had the hekim and wanted to use its power of suggestibility to make Gary suffer, but couldn't decide on a plan to accomplish that. Oh, she would have enjoyed making Gary fall in love with a cactus or a lump of used dilithium crystals - but hekim can only alter actions, not thoughts and emotions.

"She was also hampered by the fact that, with Gary's wandering eye, she would never be able to get his full attention long enough for the hekim to work once she _did_ come up with a plan.

"We were able to help her in both areas.

"Getting Gary's attention was easy - for we Jheniffurians, as you can verify, are rather skilled at getting a man's complete attention." K-tel knelt beside Kirk, making sure to rub against his arm on the way down, and smiling at the way Kirk's gaze immediately zeroed in on her chest.

"Coming up with an appropriate plan was more difficult," she continued. "Obviously, we couldn't make Gary _feel_ the emotion of love - but if we planted the suggestion within him that the act of sex was not even possible without the presence of love, not only would no other woman suffer from his thoughtless trysting, but Gary himself would suffer from his impotence for only as long as he continued to deny love a place in his life."

"That's barbaric!" Kirk cried out.

"No, it's quite civilized and I believe everything worked out for the best," K-tel said. "I heard that Gary eventually gave up on sex altogether and joined a monastery on Vulcan. These days, Brother Seven plumbs the depths of the human soul, not the depths of the human body."

"Everything worked out for the best?!" Kirk exclaimed incredulously. "What you did to Gary...it...it's...it's criminal!"

"No, it's justice," K-tel replied calmly. "And a type of justice with which you will become intimately acquainted. For you see, Captain, once I am through with you, there will be no more quickies in the cargo bay with a love-struck yeoman...no more dalliances with a diplomat's daughter in the backroom at some Starfleet gala...no more shore-leave trysts with the latest alien-babe-of-the-week. From this point on, my dear Captain Kirk, though you may still _feel_ the inclination to indulge," K-tel said, trailing a finger down his chest, and going farther down until her finger rested dangerously close to the zipper on his trousers, "your 'little Captain' will be unable to perform until you find - and, after that, _only with_ - your one true love."

K-tel smiled at Kirk and removed her hand from his trousers to grasp his chin firmly and tilt his head so that Kirk was forced to look directly into her eyes. "I think you're ready now," she said, "and we haven't much time before the other guests arrive for the dinner. Shall we begin?"

Kirk's throat was closed up in horror, but inside his mind, he was screaming, _"Noooooooooo!!!!!..."_

_TBC…_


	58. Chapter 58

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc.

The words that inspired this chapter? OAFS DEFUSE CALVE MEOW

_**Feedback welcome!**_

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_**The grand parlor of the Chief Minister's residence...**_

"...So there I was, K-olin, with my prize cow about to calve," the Jheniffurian woman said. "I sent one of the farmhands out to fetch the veterinarian; I figured even a male couldn't screw up such a simple errand as that. But he got lost - lost! - on the way to her office, and he didn't think to ask anyone for directions. It took him over an hour to get back with the vet - and I nearly lost that calf because of him! Males!" she spat out indignantly.

"Oh, I know, K-ull," the other woman responded. "I simply refuse to employ them in my factory, for fear that they'll wipe out all my profits. Ceramics, as you know, are so delicate and fragile - and men are such clumsy oafs!" The woman hesitated and then turned to the third person in the small group. "Excepting yourself, I'm sure, Mr. Spock."

Spock nodded at the woman in acknowledgement, then sipped at the glass of wine in his hand and continued to cast his gaze around the room.

The dinner guests had finally started to arrive at the Chief Minister's house less than an hour ago. First Greeter K-tel had come to his sitting room, and then to the Captain's room, to escort the two guests of honor to the parlor. Here, they were currently mixing and mingling with some of the Jheniffurian elite before dinner was served.

Except - Spock wondered, when he didn't spot Kirk in the room - where was the Captain doing his mingling…and with whom?

Spock recalled that Kirk had seemed unusually quiet and withdrawn on the way to the grand parlor. Spock had even asked him what was bothering him. Kirk had claimed it was nothing much, just a little personal problem that he was sure he could figure out. First Greeter K-tel, who was walking ahead of them, had seemed to shake her head slightly at that response.

The Captain had perked up a bit when they arrived at the parlor and were gradually introduced to the other guests, who were each as blue-skinned and beautiful as the next. In fact, the last time that Spock had seen him, Kirk had been laughing and chatting rather animatedly with a group of five women. As Spock looked around, he spied the group that Kirk had been chatting with, minus the Captain - and one of the women.

"Wouldn't you agree, Mr. Spock?" the woman named K-olin asked him.

Spock snapped his head back, startled by the question. "I'm not sure, Madam K-olin," he admitted. "Please forgive me for my inattention; I was preoccupied with looking for my captain. I seem to have lost track of him."

"There he is, Mr. Spock," the other woman, Madam K-ull, said, pointing across the room. "He just walked in with Madam K-pok."

Spock turned to the side to see where K-ull was gesturing. Kirk was standing just inside the main doorway, next to the woman K-ull had identified as Madam K-pok.

"You mean he just walked 'back' in with her, don't you?" K-olin snickered. "They did leave together, after all."

"No doubt for one of her private lessons in 'Jheniffurian hospitality'," K-ull winked. "Didn't take long, did it? They couldn't have left more than five minutes ago."

"Whatever it was, she doesn't look too happy," K-olin answered snidely. Spock, staring at K-pok in the doorway, silently agreed. K-pok looked embarrassed and disappointed. Turning to Kirk, Spock thought he looked embarrassed...and livid.

"Maybe she's lost her touch," K-ull added. "I hear that happens when you get older."

"Meow, ladies!" First Greeter K-tel said, coming up behind the group and putting an arm around the shoulders of each woman. "What will our distinguished guest here think of such catty talk?"

Madam K-olin and Madam K-ull looked appropriately chastised, but before they could apologize to Spock, Kirk stormed up to the group.

"You _bitch_!" he cried, glaring at K-tel with nostrils flaring.

K-olin and K-ull gasped, but Kirk took no heed of anyone but the First Greeter.

"You _did_ it, you really did it, didn't you?" Kirk said angrily. "I thought that...I didn't really believe that...I tried to...but I couldn't."

K-tel glanced at the others and turned back to Kirk. "My dear Captain," she said innocently, "tell us exactly what you are talking about?"

Kirk seemed to grow even angrier at her question. "You know very well that I can't! You did that, too...you...you...you..."

"Gentlemen, ladies, is there a problem?" Chief Minister K-bec asked, stopping by the group as she made her rounds of the parlor.

"I don't know, Chief Minister," K-tel replied. "Captain Kirk seems quite upset, and we're not sure why."

"You know very well why - you _both_ do! No doubt, you _all_ do..."

"Captain," Spock broke in gently, attempting to defuse Kirk's growing tirade as he noted the consternation on the faces of the Jheniffurian women. "This is not the best place for a discussion."

"Discussion? Discussion?!" Kirk practically shrieked. "This is not a discussion! This is...this is...dammit, I can't even tell you what this is!"

Chief Minister K-bec noticed that the commotion had started to draw the attention of the other dinner guests and she turned to Kirk and Spock. "Gentlemen, perhaps if we went to a side room or office to get to the bottom of this?"

"No!" Kirk shouted. "I'm not going anywhere with you! You've done enough! You..."

"...Are acting quite irrationally, Captain," Spock interrupted. "It may be only a reaction to stress, but I really think we need to have you see the Doctor."

Spock took out his communicator. Kirk saw it and attempted to grab the device away from him. "No! The Doctor can't help! You don't _know_, Spock! You don't know what they..."

Kirk's voice trailed off as he slumped unconsciously to the floor. Spock removed his hand from Kirk's neck and straightened up to face his companions.

"Chief Minister, Madams, I apologize for my Captain's behavior. It appears the stress of our recent conflicts with the Klingons, coupled with Ensign Jed-Ghar's death, has finally gotten to him. I think it best that we return to the Enterprise at this time."

K-bec nodded. "I think you may be right. Farewell then, Mr. Spock. I'm sorry that you won't be able to join us for dinner, after all."

"As am I," Spock replied. He flipped open his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up..."

_TBC…_


	59. Chapter 59: Epilogue

**Disclaimer: **This story and the characters I created belong to me. "Star Trek" belongs to The Powers That Be at Paramount…more's the pity.

**Notes:** This story was originally written August-October 2004…etc…etc. Thanks to my readers for their patience, stamina and support through the installments!

The words that inspired this chapter? THROB GUANO PERCH TRAP

_**Feedback always welcome!**_

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USS Enterprise NCC-1701  
Chief Medical Officer's Log  
Stardate 8675309.999

"I was just informed by Mr. Spock up on the Bridge that the Enterprise left the orbit of Jheniffur 8 a short while ago and is headed out of the system. Our First Officer (and acting Captain) spoke with Chief Minister K-bec on the main viewscreen before our departure. Along with an official statement expressing the Jheniffurians' condolences for Ensign Jed-Ghar's death, the Chief Minister sent the final report from Constable K-yoh's investigation.

'It appears that the good constable did not turn up any promising leads and is not optimistic about the chances of ever solving this case on her end. Nonetheless, the constable assures us in her report that if any evidence ever turns up in the future, she will let us know.

"For our part, Spock has started an on-board investigation to see if it can be determined that the hekim the Ensign ingested came from someone on the Enterprise. Pending the results of that investigation, a preliminary report of the incident, including the results of Ensign Jed-Ghar's autopsy, has been forwarded to Admiral Morrisville and the authorities at Starfleet..."

---

"Well, that was certainly interesting. Sulu just brought in his second patient of the day - Mr. Scott. As Sulu related it, he was on his way to the Messhall for dinner when he passed an open Jeffries tube and heard someone singing "Loch Lomond" rather loudly and off-key. In the tube, he found a very drunken Chief Engineer and a very empty bottle of Glenturret.

"Before Sulu and I managed to get him down on a biobed, Mr. Scott leaned close to my face and breathed on me, 'I can tell by the throb of my engines that we've left orbit - 'cause I'm the Chief Engineer, ye know.' Then he passed out, thank god. His breath was so Scotch-soaked, you could have made 'Tipsy Laird' with it. No doubt when he wakes up, his mouth is going to taste like he swallowed a load of guano.

"That's it, though. I feel like locking the doors of Sickbay and not letting anyone else in here. I don't think I could handle another nutcase. I still haven't gotten rid of Ensign P'len, and since him, I've managed to acquire three more patients in various stages of incapacitation. Four, if you count Ensign Jed-Ghar. At least _him_ I was able to ship off to the morgue, pending our arrival at Starbase 222.

"I also anticipate being able to release Crewman Leendel within the next day or two. She will, of course, then be confined to her quarters until Starfleet decides how to handle her case. I'm still trying to be optimistic, but I know that prison is a very real possibility for her. I meant what I said to her; if that happens, I'll be there. It'll be tough, what with serving on an active starship and all - and it'll probably be frowned upon by some of the brass - but I'll be there. As her friend at least, and maybe...eventually...as something more..."

---

"Another interruption - Isis, this time. She just came streaking into the office here and took up a perch on top of the monitor. Heh...she must be taking refuge from Ensign P'len again. Lately, he's been mistaking her for a dog - going "Here, Bucky...good boy...fetch the stick" and trying to teach her to shake paws. If she wasn't so curious about him, I suppose Ensign P'len wouldn't need so many stitches. Ah well, eventually one of them will learn.

"I think I'm going to like having a cat around here, though - if for no other reason than she's bound to keep me in business..."

---

"And then there's the Captain... Damn, I wish I knew what to make of him. According to Spock, he was ranting and raving about some nonsense down on the planet, acting so irrationally that Spock had to give him the Vulcan neck pinch to 'calm' him.

"He was still unconscious when he was beamed to Sickbay. I ran test after test on him and couldn't find anything to explain his behavior. When he woke up, I tried talking to him about the incident. No luck. When I asked him what had happened, he opened his mouth to speak - and froze for a second, as if suddenly remembering something. Then his mouth shut like a steel trap and he shook his head at me in apparent frustration.

"Since then, the Captain has been alternating between sullen silences and bouts of weeping. Well, he _did_ act a little panicky when Lt. Uhura stopped by Sickbay to drag Nurse Chapel out of here for dinner in the Messhall. He's always been attracted to Uhura - he'd have to be dead not to be - but I swear, he looked downright frightened when she arrived. And when she stopped by his bedside before leaving to ask how he was doing, I thought he was going to jump out of his skin and run for the door.

"I'm very concerned about Jim. He won't talk about this and he's not bouncing back from...whatever...the way he normally does. I'm thinking he may even need to see a counselor.

"I think I'll contact Admiral Morrisville at Headquarters and see if she can recommend someone for him."

_THE END_


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